Neverland
by Wildweasel
Summary: Set after Reset. Myka has left the Warehouse, but worrying news made her rush back for a friend in need. Pete/Myka, angsty sci-fi romance dealing with Pete's past.
1. A tough wake up

**Chapter 1:** A tough wake up

**A/N:** Well here is my first Warehouse 13. So hope it goes well. This story will mostly be a mix of romance/drama/scifi/angst. Main character being Pete and Myka, and dealing with Pete's past. Tho the whole team will be in.

This story hasn't been beta-ed so all mistakes are mine.

**Summary:** Set after Reset. Myka has left the Warehouse, but worrying news made her rush back for a friend in need. Pete/Myka, angsty romance dealing with Pete's past.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, besides the characters I've personally created for this story. Warehouse 13 belongs to the SYFY channel and its creator.

small addition...thanks to Kjay99 for some remarks, I've made the grammar changes, so hope it works better this way.

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Her breath was short and strained as she ran. Her steps echoed heavily on the ivory tiles of the huge hall, while her glock banged against her tigh. Suddenly she stopped dead, her gun rose before her in a perfect stance ready to shoot. There was no trace of the man she was after. Once again he had vanished, but knowing the luxury hotel and that all exits had been locked under her command he had to be here. Myka looked behind her shoulder, checking if any members of her team had followed her, and sighed. Once again she was alone, and obviously they hadn't reacted as quickly as she had thought. She shook her head and stared in front of her, her arm extended as she aimed her gun at the greek statue decorating the center of the hall. She bit her lower lip, half expecting to see Pete rushing in at any seconds with a boyish grin and a goofy excuse for being late. Though he had always acted like a kid around her, he had never let her down, never. She cursed, unlike her current team.

But Pete was far away tonight, too far to help. She had left the warehouse five months ago, and now she could only rely on the team she had been assigned to. With Dickinson gone, the new chief of the secret services had assigned her to some small mission of VIP protection, which hadn't bothered her at all, but the teams he had given her, well that was the real problem. All three of them had failed her criteria on being reliable. And tonight had been good to test that fourth team. She sighed, her eyes focused on the shadows made by the palm trees against the walls. From experience, it was always in the unexpected places that a killer would hide, and right now it could be those trees. Her brows knitted, her sight staring at the trees. No movement. Everything was still. She bit her lower lip and for the hundredth time she wondered if she had been right to leave the warehouse and her friends. To be honest she missed them.

A faint clicking sound on her right instantly brought her back to reality. She had to focus, she couldn't afford to think about that right now. The guy she was after had attempted to kill Senator Garrison a few minutes ago, and she could bet he wasn't about to give up that fast. Which meant that if he had the opportunity to kill an agent he would without even sweating. When you wanted to kill a senator, what was the life of an agent worth anyway? Her lips tight, she silently circled the statue, her back to the wall as she approached a parallel corridor. She hated those moments when she was waiting for backup to take her plan into action. And with this new team, she had no way to know if they would be smart enough to find where she was. She sighed, considering the panicked voices she could hear in her earplug, they were still looking for her upstairs and hadn't bothered to check the trail she had left towards the main hall. She shook her head in quiet anger. Unlike Pete and his vibes, who would have tried different approaches, even the less conventionals and sometimes the most dangerous for himself, but he would have made sure to find her. She smiled at the thought of her ex-partner and his dislikes for rules. Though she had always wondered why a man like him had joined the marines which were full of them.

A whimpering grunt echoed from the end of the corridor, and her heart skipped in her chest. Carefully she tugged her 9mm to her cheek, ready to aim it at the guy. From what the secret service had found on the man, he had a contract on the senator and it would be greatly appreciated to capture him alive. They needed to know who wanted the senator dead. With caution, she quickly picked a look at the corridor, and spotted a shadow hidden behind two giant yuccas. She shook her head. These killers were just too predictable, hiding behind a tree too thin to hide them. Again this one had enough brain to set a plan to kill a senator but obviously not enough to have a backup plan working out efficiently. But then it would just be easier for her.

But another sound on her left made her react instantly. A shadow emerged from a small alcove she hadn't noticed and she plunged instinctively on the ground. Quickly she rolled on the side as a trail of bullets echoed near her ear. Adrenaline pumped into her veins as a silent burn on her left biceps warned her a slug had probably grazed her skin. Putting away the pain, her eyes locked with the shadow hiding now behind the statue. Without thinking she aimed and fired twice. She was about to take a third shot when the shape crumbled on the floor. With a deep breath she stood up, her gun aimed at the form on the ground. She had aimed at the shoulder and the guy should be alright. Unless he was built with his heart on his right shoulder. She frowned – which now that she thought about it could happen if he had some kind of artifact switching the organs in the body. She shook her head with a deep frown. No way. Why was she still thinking about those things? Her life was simple now. She had left the warehouse, and all this was her past. What were the odds this guy had an artifact and she could see Pete or Artie rushing in? Zilch, none. No chances. She sighed deeply, somehow the knowledge of this impossibility made her sad.

From afar she heard her new team mates rushing inside the hall, and in the next seconds the place was crawling with guys in black suit, and earplugs. She cracked a small smile as she stood up and looked at the man who had tried to kill the senator. She smiled inwardly. She was still a good shot, she noted as his shoulder was bleeding while he was pulled up by Tom and Charlie, her new partners for the last two months.

"Good work, Mick," said Tom as he gave her a wink.

She sighed. Obviously, Tom had a very hard time to catch up on how to pronounce her first name. She huffed slightly. At least Pete had got it at their first exchange, well not really the first, but he had never tried to piss her off all the time like Tom. "Get him to the headquarter, and don't forget to call a medic. We need him alive!"

Charlie shook his head. "We know our job, agent Bering. Don't need to be bossy!" he added as they pushed their perp back toward the exit.

She widened her eyes. Two months with these guys and none had given her the benefit of the doubt, always thinking she had come back in the service because she was rejected in her previous assignment. She sighed. Well, maybe they were right. After all she had left because she had failed the team, right? The team. The word remained on her tongue like a bitter taste. Which team was she talking about now? The one she was in or the one at the warehouse, her adopted family? She sighed and from the corner of her eyes, she watched as an agent helped an old man to sit near the yuccas, tugging the tape from his mouth and around his wrists. It hadto be the one she had taken for their perp. Their man had probably placed him there to distract her. She let out a small sigh. Well it had almost worked.

Still deep in her thoughts, she slipped her Glock inside its holster and tugged at her black jacket tiredly. A small frown grazed her face as her phone went off.

"Bering," she answered tiredly without checking the ID. It had to be the job, after all, besides Pete calling her every two weeks to stay in touch no one else had ever bothered to call her on this line. Though she had to admit that right now she would enjoy having Pete calling. She looked at her watch. 7:31 PM, too soon to be Pete. Usually he called around 11 PM. She shook her head again, wondering why on earth it mattered so much for her to have him on the phone right now.

She glanced at her left arm as a medic started to take care of the wound. She nodded as he pointed at her jacket, and she began to peel off her clothes.

"Who's there?" she repeated exasperated after few seconds and no voice coming. She sighed, there was definitely someone on the other side as she could hear the breathing. "You either talk or I hang up," she lashed out with anger. This week had been hard enough not to just throw everything away. But then, her heart skipped in her throat as an old voice spoke.

"Myka?" said a baritone voice slightly trembling.

"Artie! Hey! It's great to hear you." Quickly, she dismissed the medic that had started to clean the wound. Obviously it was superficial, a small dressing and a couple of Tylenol and she would be done with it. Her mind now focused on her old friend, she headed toward the exit. Her car wasn't far, and there she could get a quiet conversation with him and ask why he was calling though she had an idea about it.

"You know," she kept going. "If you called to ask me to come back it's no, so don't try." She finally reached her car. She looked around; the flashing blue lights of the police cars lighting her black SUV. She smiled inwardly. Somehow that car reminded her of Pete and the great time they had together. She sighed inwardly as the thought helped her settling down her anxiety. She opened the driver's door, ready to jump in.

"It's Pete, Myka," blurted out Artie.

_What?_ She instantly froze, her hand still on the doorframe, while the other was pinning her phone to her ear to be sure she had heard him right.

"What do you mean, it's Pete?" Her heart raced in her chest and her blood rushed to her temples, making her slightly dizzy. The thing she had dreaded for two years had happened. The warehouse had finally claimed one of them, and this time it was Pete. _Oh please, no. Make him be okay._ She silently prayed.

"Pete..." Artie's voice trailed off.

She could hear the uncertainty in it. That wasn't Artie. For him to be unsure meant only one thing, but her heart refused to believe it could be possible. That Pete could be gone. "Tell me is okay?"

"I can't, Myka," confessed Artie.

"What happened, Artie?" She jumped behind the wheel, and slammed the door shut behind her. She was too stressed to keep her voice low and no one needed to hear her next question. "Is he...?" She swallowed the hard knot formed in her throat. "Please tell me is gonna be okay?" she said almost pleading her old friend to lie.

"I'm sorry, Myka," replied Artie. "He needs you. He..." She heard him hesitate, but then he spoke again and her heart shattered in pieces. "He's dying, Myka," he finally dropped, his voice low and filled with sadness.

She tightened her lips, a silent tear glistened at the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. "I'll be in the next flight."

"Good."

She hung up, and her fingers tightened around the wheel. _He's dying..._ echoed Artie's words. She closed her eyes and with all her strength, she took a deep breath and turned the key. The engine roared angrily as she stepped on it, and the sound mirrored her pain. Her eyes stuck on the road, she led the car in the direction of the airport. This was definitely the worse week of her life.

_**xxx**_

The tires of her rented SUV screeched on the concrete as she parked in the BnB's alley. Her fingers tightened slightly around the wheel as she took a long breath and closed her eyes._ Pete's dying. _She shook her head, those words had haunted her all the way to the BnB, and now after almost eight hours of flights and driving, she was finally back. Back where she had left her team, left Pete, left her new family. She looked up through the windshield, and gazed at the dark starry night welcoming her. Why did she have to come back to this dark news, why? She sighed. Because she could say anything about Pete but she was as stubborn as he was, that was why she hadn't come back until now.

With a deep sigh, she opened the door and jumped on the pavement. The heat coming from the desert of South Dakota hit her face and brought her back to the first day she and Pete had arrived here, meeting Leena for the first time. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the memory. Her lips tight, she slammed the door and headed toward the entrance, her heart now racing in her chest. All the way she had turned and turned Artie's words in her head, hoping he was wrong, that Pete was going to be all right. That all of this was a horrible joke. But unfortunately the part of her brain, the one Pete always called reason and wouldn't loosen up, had not reassured her. It had painfully stated that if Artie and Claudia, the best genius she had ever met on earth, if neither of them had been able to help Pete, then how could she? She swallowed back her fear. And then it had struck her. Maybe Artie hadn't called for help? Maybe she was going to see Pete for the last time? To say goodbye while he would depart for another world. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she stood in front of the door, her hand held in the air but unable to knock.

She closed her eyes, praying that all of this was a nightmare. She had missed the warehouse and Pete, though she wouldn't admit it to him, but she hadn't stopped thinking about them since she had left. Not a day had gone without her thoughts drifting back to him and their incredible work. In two years of working with him, she had more fun and more insurance that he had her back than with anybody she had worked with, including Sam. She opened her eyes and the door before her was still Leena's bed and breakfast. This was real, painfully too real. And when the door finally opened and Leena's sad face appeared before her, her eyes red as if she had been crying all day, then, it suddenly hit her. Myka realized it was true: Pete was dying, and she wasn't going to wake up soon. No, the nightmare was just beginning.

Without a word Leena offered her a warm hug and let her in. The smell of freshly brew coffee welcomed her, and her stomach twitched at the unusual hour of brewing it. It meant only one thing: they had kept a watch over Pete all night. A silent pain sneaked inside her heart as she recalled the same dreadful circumstances when her uncle Joe had passed away. She was only fourteen at the time but she clearly remembered the same deafening silence lingering in the rooms, the ticking clock swaying from one side to another and with each beat his life seeping a little more out of his body.

She sighed, realizing it was happening again but this time it was her best friend, not just an uncle she had barely known as a kid. No, it was the man who had saved her life more than once. The one she had left behind thinking she would get him killed one of these days because of her weaknesses. She stepped in, looking at the corridor bathed in a soft orange light. She had come as fast as she could. It was now 4 AM, and every normal life should have been sleeping, but not the warehouse agents, not when one of them was dying.

So yes, the BnB was strangely too quiet. Usually with Pete around, there would always be some animation but the lack of Pete's jokes was deepening the silence like a cold blade slashing through her veins, making this nightmare all too real.

"How is he?" she heard her weak voice spoke to Leena.

Leena tightened her lips as her hand gently stroke Myka's back and she pointed at the main room. Silently Myka headed inside, her steps now heavy and unsure on the wooden floor. She wanted for this nightmare to end right now. _Just stop and wake up, please!_ Her mind pleaded in pain.

Half sat in the couch, Artie's eyes left the report he was reading as he noticed Myka. He raised a gentle gaze toward her as he stood up, his lips tight in remorse, a clear feeling of guilt lingering in his eyes. He was the one in charge of the warehouse agents. What had happened to Pete should have never happened. With a deep sigh he pushed back his round glasses on his nose, and welcomed her with a warm hug. It was good to see her.

"Artie? What happened?" she whispered as she broke their embrace and looked at him, her eyes pleading him to tell her that all of this was just a horrible mistake.

"It's complicated, Myka." He offered her a weak smile. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too. But where is Pete? What happened Artie? Is it because of an artifact? I mean it had to be, with Pete touching almost anything on a mission..." Her voice trailed off, stopping her flow of question as Artie bit his lower lip.

The older man watched her with a small smile, his eyes sparkling with an old memory. He had forgotten how fast the cold determined Myka could turn into a blazing storm when she feared for someone she cared. And Pete was the number one in her caring list, though she wouldn't admit it.

She nervously paced the room, her eyes darting anxiously towards him. Artie sighed as his fingers brushed back his dark salty hair. How could he tell her that Pete was dying by lack of... He sighed, no he couldn't tell her that. At least not right away. He stared at her. But maybe he should start from the beginning. He shook his head and waved to her to stop her nervous pacing.

"Please sit down," he said as he gently grabbed her arm to get her attention.

Her hazel curls dangled over her shoulders as a sad gaze fell upon him. "Where is he, Artie? I want to see him."

"It might not be a good idea, Myka. You need to know a couple of things before..."

"No!" she cut him off with more fury that she had intended. She frowned almost as surprised as he was of her sudden outburst. "Sorry, Artie. I just want to see him."

The older man stared at her. Somehow she too had changed in the last five months. First Pete and now her, his heart realized in pain. Could their separation be part of the equation? He tightened his lips and stared at the soft and sweet agent he had known for two years and that seemed to have vacated the place to be replaced by a bitter woman. He sighed inwardly. Well, all of them had changed since she had left. The team wasn't the team without Myka. The same way Pete had changed too. She locked her emerald eyes with him and he slowly nodded. "Okay, we'll talk later."

She let out a deep sigh as he finally gave up. Her friend passed before her, heading to the corridor.

"He's upstairs." He preceded her, his weight making the wooden stairs creaked slightly.

Swallowing her fear, Myka followed him. She was here for Pete. And whatever happens she would make sure she would see him before... She stopped her dreadful trail of thoughts. _Hey, hey, hey, Myka!_ would have said Pete with his usual smile. _You know this job is full of surprise, so no reason to panic... yet._ A weak smile spread on her lips as she could picture him and his reassuring, boyish grin lighting up the room on his carefully chosen word: _yet_. Yes, nothing was certain in the warehouse.

As they turned in the stairs and made it to the next floor, Artie stopped right before Pete's room. "You know, Myka," he began, fiddling nervously with his glasses. "He's... He changed since you left and..." He stopped taking a long pause as he locked his eyes with her emeralds and put an arm half way before the door to prevent her going in.

"It's okay, Artie. I came to see him." Her voice was soft as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. "I've seen him in bad conditions before and..."

Artie swallowed. "Not like this one, Myka. Not like this." He tightened his lips but as she kept smiling gently, he finally stepped aside.

Biting her lower lip, her trembling hand turned the handle and slowly she pushed the door open. The hinges creaked a little as Pete's room bathed in a soft orange light appeared before her. Her gut twisted madly as she spotted the dark ugly things hanging on the walls and looking like cocoons escaping from one of Pete's horror movie. Some kind of long peduncle exited from those weird cocoons and were crawling toward Pete's bed and underneath the blankets. But what really terrified her was the fact that Pete was in the center of all this. The cocoons pulsed and glowed a yellow greenish light while they seemed to be sucking the life out of her friend with their deadly tentacles. As her eyes followed the dark tentacles from the cocoons to her friend, she met Claudia's glistening gaze. Sat next to Pete, her young friend stood up quickly and rushed toward her, her eyes filled with tears.

"Myka," sobbed Claudia, as she hugged strongly the former warehouse agent. "Pete is..." she started, but her voice died in Myka's blue shirt as the young techy buried her crying face in her shoulder.

Myka's arms tightened around her young friend, and suddenly the reasons that had made her leave five months ago seemed very futile and meaningless. Had she been right to leave? Was Pete dying because she hadn't had his back anymore? All those questions were still haunting her when Claudia broke their hug and wiped her face with her sleeve.

"He's delirious," she said, her voice filled with tremors. "With Artie and Leena we tried but..." A purple strand fell against her cheek and Myka couldn't resist to gently tug it back behind her friend's ear.

"It's okay, Claudia. It's okay," she repeated gently as she stroke her back. "Can you...?"

"Yes, yes I leave you two alone." Claudia took a deep breath, quickly drying her eyes with her hand, her black and colorful bracelets jiggling as they bounced together. "Gosh I'm glad to see you!" She glanced at Pete and then with a small smile on her face, she hugged Myka once again, and left the room, passing in front of Artie with a small sniff.

Myka's gaze followed her friend and met Artie's saddened expression which she was certain mirrored her own feeling of pain and guilt.

"We will be downstairs if you need us," murmured Artie before he closed the door.

Silence wrapped around her, and she turned toward the bed, her eyes searching for Pete. But from where she was, she could barely make out a small shape entrenched between the blankets. A soft whiz rose and then disappeared before starting again a few seconds later. Pain clenched at her heart when she realized it was Pete's weary breathing. As she approached him, her eyes settled on the blankets covering his body half way to his chest and rising in rhythm with his sickening whiz._ At least he's breathing,_ her mind reassured her, _at least he's alive_.

Stepping closer, her heart beat faster while her mind was doing its best to deny the vision before her. The fragile man laid limply before her couldn't be Pete. He looked too thin and too skinny, too pale and too weak to be her tough friend, former wrestler and marine. But as she reached the side of his bed, and her eyes met the familiar pointy chin; the messy, dark brown hair spiking mischievously as if he had just played a prank, she couldn't deny it anymore: it was Pete. The nightmare was real.

Slowly, she sat on the empty chair next to his bed, and carefully grabbed his bandaged hand lying on the blankets. It was cold, too cold, her mind noted in dread as she wrapped his cold fingers between hers.

"Pete?" she called softly, staring at his pale and sweaty face deepened in a pair of white, fluffy pillow.

A strand of brown damp hair was stuck to his forehead, and she gently brushed it back, revealing his burning forehead beaded in sweat. She bit her lower lip, still staring with pain at his sleepy face, while her fingers lingered among his wet hair.

"Pete? It's Myka." Her voice was low and she was almost whispering afraid to hurt him more with her words, and that his frail body would break in pieces before her. That vision couldn't be true! "I came to see you, Pete."

Silence fell back in the room, and her ears only picked up the faint whiz of his weary breath. Her gaze lingered further on his body with pain, her detailed oriented mind noticing the faint bruises underneath his jaw and around his left temple; the pieces of white dressing matted with blood and protruding from the blankets, obviously wrapped around his chest; and the same white bandage covering entirely his right arm, a splint neatly dressed around that same forearm, while the horrible tip of a dark greenish tentacle had sunk underneath his skin. What the hell had happened to him? And why Artie hadn't unplugged these slicky slimy things that obviously were sucking his life. Anger filled her heart as she tugged on one of the dark tentacles, knowing that Artie had probably tried and her move was as futile as trying to stop a rushing tsunami. But then she stopped as a small growl escaped Pete's lips.

"Pete?" she called, happy he was waking up. "Oh God, Pete, it's Myka."

"Myk-..." his weak voice finally answered as his eyelids slowly fluttered open. But after few attempts, only two dark slits appeared instead of his eyes.

She let out a nervous chuckle as her hand gently brushed his damp hair, trying to keep his gaze on her. "I'm here, Pete." Cracking a smile, her fingers softly stroked his burning forehead, her crying eyes locked with the narrow openings. "I'm right here," she repeated with a soothing voice like the one her mother use to take when she was sick. He blinked tiredly as if noticing her for the first time.

"No..." He croaked. "You're not," he mumbled before his eyelids closed.

_I'm not? What?_ "Pete?" she called in dread, realizing he was gone again. "Pete I'm real. It's Myka, I'm here. Pete, please stay with me, Pete!"

She watched painfully as his lips parted and a few words escaped. "I lost her..." He murmured, his voice filled with a tearing pain she had never heard before.

"Who? Kelly?" Her eyes widened. What did he mean? "Pete?" she called anxiously. Powerless, she watched as he slumbered back into unconsciousness, unaware of her restless calls. "Pete? No, Pete." Her voice echoed in the silent room, her eyes now filled with salty tears. Her fingers softly caressed his face, in hope of waking him up. But it was too late. He was gone again.

_**xxx**_

Artie was rummaging through several papers when he turned to the corridor, hearing small footsteps. After a few seconds, Myka finally appeared on the threshold of the main room, a look of defeat painted on her face. He sighed, he knew that look. All the team had worn it since Pete had been in this state.

"I want to know everything, Artie." Her resolute gaze met him, and he knew he wasn't going to escape her questions. "But the most important is: how can we save Pete?"

Artie caught the pain hidden in her green eyes and nodded with a deep sigh. He pointed at the couch. "It's gonna take some time."

"I don't care!" she stated coldly, her eyes glistening from the threatening tears wanting to break free. "Is it because of an artifact? I mean he totally denied me to be there. As if I couldn't come back for him. As if I wasn't real?" A feeling of hurt appeared in the depth of her eyes.

"Yes... and no," answered Artie as he slumped back in the armchair wearily.

Silently Leena arrived in the room and put down a tray filled with cups and a pot of coffee on the small table between them. His sight crossed hers and she nodded slightly. "I will stay with Pete while you two talk." She glanced at Myka and offered her a smile before she headed to the stairs.

Myka followed her, her mouth half open in a mix of pain and fear. Then, her eyes filled with sadness came back to Artie. "What do you mean? Is he sick because of an artifact or not?" Her gut twisted nervously at the dreadful answer. What if she was responsible for Pete's condition?

Artie sighed. "The artifact made Pete sick, but he's getting worse for another reason..."

A cold fear seized her heart. "And what might that be?"

"I believe he's strongly affected by the artifact because he lost hope." His eyes locked with hers while he offered her a grim look.

_Hope? How could Pete lose hope?_ Her mind asked in shock. Pete was too full of life to lose hope. In any situations they had encountered he had always tried to cheer her up against all odds. Artie had to be wrong, Pete couldn't have lost his inner fire. It couldn't be that!

_**...TBC

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**A/N:** Well hope you liked this. There's more to come if you're up to. (Myka to the rescue and Pete's past). So let me know what you thought of this with a review and if I should post more and regularly.

Have a great Sunday and thanks for reading!


	2. Never never never land

**Chapter 2:** Never never never land

**A/N:** Thanks guys for all the great reviews. I guess you want more so here it comes!

A special thanks to Kjay99 for proposing to Beta this story.

**Summary:** Set few months after Reset. Myka has left the W13. Now she receives news from Warehouse 13 as a friend is in need. Pete/Myka with the team.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, besides the characters I created for this story. Warehouse 13 belongs to the SYFY channel, and Neverland to John Barry.

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"I'm sorry, Myka. But that's what happened," said Artie as he took off his glasses and fiddled with them.

"You must be wrong, Artie. Pete can't lose hope... I mean," her voice trailed off as she looked down, remembering Pete's last words._ I lost her..._ Was he talking about Kelly?

"He lost her. That's what he said." She looked at Artie with a new hope gleaming in her eyes and bent toward him. "He was probably talking about Kelly. So if we bring her back, he will be fine, right? Right?" Her eyes pleaded him to say yes.

"No, Myka. We can't. She's gone." He sighed, putting back his glasses on. "Through the last weeks, we tried everything with Claudia and Leena. But we had to conclude that if none of our tactics worked, it's because... because..."

"Because he lost hope. I got it," cut Myka as she stood up and started again to pace the room.

"It's sadly the truth. Pete has no will to live anymore. He has given up."

"But he can't," she voiced painfully, her eyes ready to let her tears finally fall freely. She stopped in front of Artie, her arms falling to her sides. "He has always been the most joyful man I've ever met, Artie." Her voice was filled with slow tremors and she had to pause to get her control back. She closed her eyes, and lazily passed a hand in her curly hair. A few strands fell freely on her face, but right now she didn't care about how she looked. "It can't be." She whispered, her palm slowly rubbing her face in hope to wake up from this nightmare. "He can't give up on us like that! He just can't!" She finally sat, and her arms dropped on her knees in defeat. Her eyes rose to Artie, hoping he was going to pull something from his hat like the old times; a genius idea, something that would help Pete and make her pain go away.

"Yes he can, Myka," confirmed Artie as he shook his head sadly. "Pete was too tired. You saw it when that telegraph got a hold on his mind."

"But that was months ago!"

Artie sighed. "Yes, and since then he..." His eyelids winked nervously, even for him it was hard to admit the way things have changed these last couple months. "He kinda... changed just after you left." Artie looked at her with remorse. He knew these words could hurt her, but she wanted to know the truth.

"You mean it's my fault?" She pressed her hand over her chest, pointing at her. "Pete is dying because of me?" Her eyes widened at her worst nightmare coming alive.

"No," quickly replied Artie, his hand waving the air in denial. "What I meant is that he lost his will to live. The fact that you left at the same time might have added to his stress and weariness." He frowned seeing the feeling of guilt painted over her face. "Well, the telegraph did a lot of work on him, Myka. It made him see and hear things that weren't there. It altered his mind and clung to his latent stress of losing someone in the team, or being too late to save us."

She nodded sadly. "I know, I was there, Artie."

His hand rubbed his beard as he stood up and started to pace the room. "After Wells' betrayal, he lost Kelly, and you left." His brows furrowed. "I guess it was too much for him with all he had endured already." He sighed. "I must admit I was afraid of something like that happening to one of you. But it's not because of you, you understand?" He stared at her, searching in her eyes if his argument had been received. "In a normal situation he would have recovered with some time, but with the constant missions and few other things, it definitely broke him down."

She frowned, her mind having caught something off in Artie's speech. "What do you mean by _few other things_?" she asked now intrigued. Was Artie hiding something else from her? Well okay, she wasn't a warehouse agent anymore, so maybe that was why, but Pete was dying upstairs and they had no time for this petty game of Clue.

"Huh." His mind went to a hundred miles an hour, looking for a way to avoid her question. "The important thing Myka, it's that we tried almost everything to shake him back to this reality but it didn't work."

"Almost? So there's still a chance, right?" She felt suddenly hope rising from Artie's words.

His eyes locked with hers, and he offered her a sad pout. "Really thin, Myka. Really really thin."

She nodded slowly. "I can go with that!" She stood up. "I'm sure it'll work. I'm here now, and we've always beat the odds together." With a small smile, she tapped her hands together. "We're gonna bring him back."

"That's why I called you," confessed Artie as he poured some coffee inside a mug, unknowing of her sudden stare set on him. A column of steam escaped the warm cup as he grabbed it and held it for Myka.

She frowned staring at him with a sudden smoldering anger. "You mean you wouldn't have told me about Pete if I couldn't help?"

Artie realized by the tone of her voice and the sparkling thunders in her emeralds that this time he should have definitely kept his mouth shut. "Huh? I'm sorry, Myka." He brought the mug back to his own hands and stared at the dark surface reflecting his face. "Well... Pete asked us not to call you." He sighed as she stared back at him as if the sky had been ripped open and the stars had fallen through the hole in a pouring rain. "...But I would have called you anyway."

"He asked you what?" she said weakly, her sight lost. Slowly, she slumped back in the couch, devastated. "Why would he say that?" Her tone was genuinely surprised. "We talked on the phone every two weeks, Artie, why would he not want to see me?"

Artie locked his eyes with hers. "Myka, Pete..." He sighed. "Well, it would be an understatement to say that he just sees you as a partner. He cares a lot about you, and I'm sure he didn't want you to worry." He offered her a weak smile. "You know... it's Pete."

Her heart squeezed in her chest. Of course, it was so much like Pete to keep tough things away from her, to protect her. She let out a deep sigh. "How long has he been like that?" Her sight swept the table, looking for nothing in particular but unable to focus on something else but Pete or her own guilt. She had left the team, and now Pete was dying. Adding the fact he didn't want to see her or even acknowledge her presence, it was just too much. It couldn't be worse.

"Two weeks," dropped Artie, already knowing that this answer was going to set her off.

She clenched her jaw in pain. Well, obviously she was wrong, it could be worse. "Two weeks?" She exclaimed, now furious. "And you called me only now?"

"Myka." His hand rose to calm the boiling fury sparkling in her emeralds. Pete was right, the calm and gentle Myka could turn into a devastating storm in a matter of seconds and God knows you didn't want to be in her way when it happened. But the truth was the truth and Artie couldn't change it.

"You left the warehouse," he said grimly, almost with a hint of reproach. He too had been hurt that she left without saying a proper good bye and looking them in the eye. Though he knew he would have done the same thing if the role had been reversed. "We can't call you every time something goes wrong or when Pete is wounded." He sighed. "Or we would have bothered you every month," he grumbled between his teeth, before he realized he had said too much.

"What do you mean every month? Pete and I talked on the phone regularly, I think I would have noticed if..." her voice trailed off as she realized now why he hadn't called her lately. She remained frozen, standing in the middle of the room as the pieces of the puzzle formed in her mind. Her eyes glazed a minute, as she was lost in her thoughts. "I mean, he never talked about being hurt or sick, or whatever." _Y__es, but Pete mostly never talked about himself unless it was for making a joke or bragging about something childish. _Had she missed the signals? Had she missed noticing that her friend wasn't all right?

Artie turned toward her a sad gaze. "As I said, he didn't want to worry you, neither did I."

She stopped dead. "So he got hurt more than once." And this time she wasn't asking, it was a statement.

_Once?_ It was so an understatement with what happened to Pete. "On a regular basis, yes," dropped Artie, he sighed. Now that he had started, it was time to let the plain truth out and clear things up. "It kinda became a habit with him. Every two or three cases he came back with a new wound. It was either due to the artifact or because he had been too sloppy as he liked to call it."

"Pete is never sloppy," she praised, exchanging a complicit look with Artie. "I mean, not on the job..." her voice trailed off and her brows furrowed shyly. "Well, besides the fact that he touches almost everything." She added with a little smile. A weak sparkle appeared in her emeralds.

Artie chuckled lightly. "I know what you mean." Then, he rubbed his forehead, becoming serious. "But it kept happening anyway. Months, after months, until the last one was too much," he finished grimly.

"But how? I mean was it because of the mission or... no, don't tell me he went alone." Her eyes widened, hoping she was wrong. Artie couldn't have sent Pete on a mission with no one to have his back.

Artie shook his head. "I'm not that stupid, Myka. No, he went either with me or Claudia, but it didn't matter who was with him. It's like he had a damned target painted on his back. We just couldn't stop things from happening to him." He let out a deep sigh. "The first time, he fell from an exit staircase and broke two ribs. Thank God for the trash bin below that lightened his fall."

Myka sat back silently as she listened to Artie's sad listing of Pete's _accidents_.

"Then, few weeks later while searching for a mayan dagger, his opponents managed to... hmm, to stab him in the shoulder. Right here," added Artie as he pointed at the back of his left shoulder. He closed his eyes. "And that was just the beginning, he got his right leg slashed open by the claws of a giant gargoyle, part of his left side burned by the fire of hell, and he got beat up by the personification of the thing from the same comic book." He sighed, his hand rubbing his eyes. Noone had a decent night since Pete had been wounded, and the long weary weeks were starting to really put a toll on him as well. He sighed, hoping that it wouldn't hinder his judgment. "That one," he continued. "That one was the last before... before he got... I mean," his voice trailed off as he noticed the pain in Myka's eyes.

"You think he got reckless? Artie, Pete has never been suicidal," she whispered, between clenched teeth, realizing that Pete's problem had deeper roots than what she had thought. If Artie was right, how was she going to be able to help her friend? How could you bring back hope to the one that used to bring it for you? Was she strong enough to help Pete? Slowly her heart wrenched in her chest, tightening at the hard realization that the challenge had all to do with feelings. She closed her eyes. She wasn't built for that. Pete was. He was the one feeling and acting on his vibes. She was the one using her brain, needing material and concrete things to solve a problem. This..., this was out of her league.

Artie frowned. "Maybe. I'm not sure."

"Well I can tell you that's not true. That's just not Pete!" she exclaimed with force, her right hand closed into a fist. "He wouldn't do that to himself, or to us!"

"Not the Pete you knew, I agree," whispered Artie, his eyes slowly fell back into his dark coffee. He knew that Myka was going to calm down on her own, so no need to add anything, besides, he too was mad at himself and the fact he had let the situation becoming so out of control.

"What do you mean the Pete I knew?" She threw her arms aside, her body asking what he really implied by that. "When I talked to him on the phone he was the same joyful man full of life!" She stared at Artie with her eyes wide. "I mean it's true that sometimes his jokes were not that funny, but..." she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "...like he tried too much. But he was still joking on the phone and..."

"Maybe with you, but not here," cut Artie with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Myka. The last five months Pete had slowly stopped being cheerful and joking around about anything. He was serious as a tombstone as if he wanted to replace you or I don't know, be the responsible guy." He gently smiled as Myka glanced at him with a light smirk about Pete being the _responsible guy_. Pete was everything but he had never liked to play that role, even though both his friends knew his real ability was carefully hidden under his playful mood.

A long silence followed his words as both looked down, deep in thoughts. Then after a moment it was Myka that broke the quietness of the place.

"I saw some kind of organic devices near his bed. Are they what is sucking the life out of him? I mean..." Her voice trailed off as the image of Pete, the spine attached to his back and his eyes imploring her to take his life, was carved before her eyes. She closed them and took a long breath. She had almost lost him that day, almost. And seeing him again, plugged to some weird creepy things were just adding to her fear. After the episode with the spine, even if Pete had joked around about it, she would see the way he was moving then. Cautious while standing or walking, each step bringing a small wince over his forced smiling face. She sighed. He had tried well to hide his weariness from the team and for a week. But not to her. She looked back at Artie, her eyes darting all her determination. This time she would crush whatever was hurting him. "I'm sure you must have a God damned good reason for keeping those ugly things around, right? Or there must be a way to get him off them."

Artie bit his lower lip. "They're not the problem, Myka. They're Chauliac's eggs." He sighed. "Guy de Chauliac was a famous physician in the 14th century in France, fighting plagues. He's mostly known for his work as a great surgeon but few people know that he studied astrology." He looked up to see Myka frowning.

Although she had always been interested by Artie's historical data on an artifact, she had to admit that with Pete sick, the last thing she wanted right now was a course on the 14th century french surgeons.

"Nevermind," said Artie seeing her demanding glance to cut to the heart of the problem. "His eggs appear like cocoons but inside they store a formidable energy that can be redistributed to heal."

Myka frowned, understanding now the real purpose of these _eggs._

"Usually, a few hours connected to one of them and the patient is healed with fewer side effects," he finished.

"I sensed a but," she quickly added, as she narrowed her emeralds.

Artie shook his head, of course Myka knew him well, and so her job with the warehouse. He let out a small breath and rubbed his forehead, and Myka knew instantly she was right.

"Artie, why did you plug them to Pete? I mean you said his problem was his will to live. So I would assume we're talking about an artifact, right?"

He bit his lower lip, staring at her in misery.

Really she didn't like the way the conversation was going, something looked really wrong, and Artie delaying to tell her was just adding to her anxiety. "How can they help Pete to..." Her voice died suddenly, her brows furrowed in dread. "... unless,... unless he was wounded?" She asked her jaw clenched, remembering the dressing around his chest and arm.

He let escape a deep breath. This time he had to tell her. He looked up and their eyes connected with the same complicit gaze as they used to when they were working on a case before. "It's complicated, Myka. On the last mission," he began. "It was at Boulder, Colorado. Pete and Claudia were charged to find the Necronomicon, considered to be the book of the dead and written by H.P. Lovecraft." He tightened his lips. "Claudia found traces of it on a black market with her hacking skills. It was sold by someone called the Renegade."

Myka shifted in her seat. The last man selling artifact had brought death to the warehouse, and had proved that unless they were lucky, life could end easily, especially for a warehouse agent.

"She quickly located the seller," he continued, sipping his mug, and his gaze plunged in the black liquid. "After a short pursuit, Pete managed to trap him as he was leaving his place. But what they hadn't counted on was that the Renegade had another powerful artifact." He looked down, his face somber. "In his rush, the Renegade dropped the Necromicon. Pete asked Claudia to secure it while he rushed after our troublemaker." He tightened his lips. "Things happened quickly after that. When Claudia came back to help Pete, he was fighting with the Renegade." Artie locked his eyes filled with sadness with Myka's. "In a matter of seconds, the Renegade shoved something at Pete."

Artie saw the look of dread in Myka's sight and he couldn't blame her. She was right to be afraid. "I guess by reflex Pete probably protected himself, and somehow the book's cover must have grazed his skin because in a split second, Claudia saw Pete froze in the alley as the book fell back on the ground." His right hand brushed his salty beard in a nervous habit. "When Claudia reached Pete, the Renegade had picked up the book and escaped." He frowned, looking down with a guilty pout and sighed. "She called me right away in total panic. Pete was in a complete catatonic state. Not responsive at all." He shook his head, knowing that Myka didn't need the rest of the details, this was painful enough.

Her eyes were wide at the mention of Pete in shock. She had seen too well his face with the spine incident. How could she forget his red eyes injected, darting the most unbearable pain? She bit her lower lip, knowing Artie had probably spared her the details, and how Claudia must have felt at the time. Hell, she herself had woken up in sweat after the spine event, her nights filled with Pete's dying screams. So for Claudia witnessing this, she could only be afraid for her young friend. Tiredly, she rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes a second, before looking back at Artie anxiously. "Which book are we talking about, Artie?"

"After some research and considering Pete's state and from what Claudia got a glimpse of, we deduced it was John's Barry original draft of Neverland," he dropped without taking a breath.

"Peter Pan's story? Is it not supposed to be about an imaginary world for kids?"

Slowly Artie pulled out his glasses and started to clean them with a tissue. "Yes, but that's only for kids. The reality is much much darker. It's a twisted Neverland!" His tone rose. "The one published by Barry and known by the world in the 19th century was done after he realized his first draft had power over the mind."

His hand closed into a fist as he pulled it down with his words, his face contorted into a grim rictus. "It somehow sucks your energy out, draining your soul to the book, trapping any being forever in Neverland. The deeper you go into the dream, the deeper your body suffers as it reminds you of your old wounds; either physical or psychological."

Myka stared in dread at him. "What do you mean, old wounds?" she could feel her stomach twisting nervously inside. Old wounds? Even if Pete had never talked that much about his past, she had seen it in his eyes that it hadn't been the great happy childhood he was joking about: the death of his father, his sister being deaf, his own struggle with the bottle. No, if by wounds Artie meant past, then it was definitely bad.

Artie sighed. "I mean any former wounds, Myka." He clasped his hands before him, forming a ball. "This nasty artifact re-awakens any former wounds." He opened his hands, and showed his palms to her. "Which means anything that was buried, is unleashed to burn and hurt again but with a multiplied force, crushing the will and body of the victim." He swallowed and tightened his lips slowly, seeing her face growing pale. "Then the body slowly collapses as it can't regenerate itself as fast as the wounds reappear." He let fall his hands to his side. "And finally, your mind is cut off from reality, lost forever into a labyrinth of pain and torment." He sighed as he grabbed his glasses and started to clean them nervously again, but this time he took the bottom of his loose sweater. He knew they were clean already, he just needed to keep his hands busy.

Myka remained silent as he finally set his glasses on his nose, nervously avoiding her stare. He should have known about the book and that the Renegade would have more artifacts. If only he had told Pete and Claudia to be more careful, and to watch their back. He sighed. Though he had told them he couldn't shake the idea that he was responsible for Pete's condition.

"How do we get him out?" echoed Myka's determined voice, pulling Artie from his thoughts.

"Huh, well..." His voice trailed off as he finally locked his eyes with hers. He just hoped by trying to save one he wasn't going to lose two. "This dark writing has a grip on you only if your mind wants to let go," he explained. "Otherwise it's just a bad trip to hell. And you wake up a few hours later from a big nightmare, and with a damned headache." He sighed. "Although in Pete's case, his nightmare is real and going on for more than a few hours. It's been days now, and Chauliac's eggs have maintained his body, giving him nutrients and restoring his wounds as they reappeared, though I can't stop the damage being done and they can't repair his will."

His eyes locked with Myka's emeralds. He could read her pain slipping from her green pupils every time he had used the words _wound_ and _Pete_. But now he had to tell her the whole truth. If they wanted to have a chance to save him, she needed to know everything. "Also being barely conscious," he continued. "Pete's had no drink or food of any kind in the last two weeks. It's why I plugged three eggs to him. But I'm afraid it's not enough anymore." He looked down sadly. "He's not gonna last long now. His body is too weak and the eggs can't supply to his will to live." He sighed. "Myka, his mind is fading away and I'm not sure we can save him," he finally admitted with pain.

She raised a determine look toward him. "I don't want to hear any bad predictions. Pete is a fighter. We just have to figure out how to help him. So what can we do about it?"

Artie stood up and patted her shoulder before picking up his bag and pulling a small box from it. "Well the only way now is to heal his soul. Which means dig into his mind and find the reason why he lost hope and fix it. It has to be something very specific. Pete's other troubles were only a reflection of his inner turmoil."

"Yeah but how do we do that when he barely talks or remains conscious." She frowned remembering her friend slumbering back into unconsciousness after a very brief exchange. "Though less than ten words couldn't be counted as a real exchange," she stated bitterly.

"No you're right, but we can use..." Artie's voice trailed off as Leena's call for help was heard. "What...?"

Both gazes connected together, the same fear lingering behind: _Pete!_ In a matter of seconds Artie and Myka rushed up the stairs. A panicked Leena appeared on the threshold of his room. Unfortunately, she had no time to answer to their questioning eyes as a painful moan torn the air again.

"Pete?" called Myka and Artie at the same time they rushed inside.

She stopped dead right in the entrance, her eyes wide opened at the cocoons now glowing a greenish light.

"Oh God," blurted out Artie. His hand brushed his hair, a clear sense of alarm painted over his face. "That's not good!"

"What's happening Artie?" yelled Myka as her eyes fell on Pete shifting under the blankets as if he laid on burning embers. His face was pale and glistening with sweat, wrinkled in an unbearable pain. "Artie?" she shouted, her heart shattered in pieces at her agonizing partner moaning.

"He's having a new crisis."

"No kidding!" she lashed out.

Artie ignored her comment, knowing she needed it to deal with the events. " That's why Chauldiac's eggs are reacting. There're trying to compensate but it's too strong."

"What do you mean? Compensate for what?" Myka was already at Pete's side, her hand silently holding Pete's to be sure he knew he wasn't alone.

Artie stepped next to the bed and kneeled. He looked up to Myka, and bit his lower lip. "For a new wound to reappear," he dropped, like a cold axe.

"Wh- What wound?" she blurted out, her eyes darting on Pete, trying to find where he was hurting.

Artie slowly lifted the blankets, revealing multiple dressings covering Pete's bare chest and neck. Some were stained with blood, but what really gripped at her heart was the long painful groan coming out Pete's lips.

"Oh my God," she swore as she noticed the bloody dressings. "Pete," she called as he moaned in pain, his body thrashing about between the blankets.

Then with horror she saw it. His left arm glistening in sweat was suddenly grazed by a deep cut, from his elbow to his wrist. "Pete?" she called but only a painful moan escaped his lips.

Quickly, Artie grabbed a towel and covered the wound, staunching the leaking blood staining the sheets in a crimson color. His lips tight, and maintaining a firm hand on the towel, he observed Myka as she bent toward Pete. Silently, she squeezed his hand gently, her other hand pressed over his feverish forehead.

"He's burning, Artie!"

The senior agent looked her in the eye and sighed deeply. "That's what I feared. He's starting to get hurt randomly."

"What? What do you mean _randomly_?"

"Well before you arrived, it was only his recent ordeals that, well, that hurt his body. But now it seems to go out of order."

"What does it mean for Pete?"

"It means his understanding of space and time is melting together." He sighed hopelessly. "Soon his past, his present, his own identity will be fused together, and we'll have no way to get him back," he finished with dread.

Myka turned to Pete, her heart tight in her chest as she gently stroked his sweaty cheek. "You've got to hang on partner." With that comfort, his feverish eyes fluttered open at her words. She could see him fighting for coming back to his senses. "C'mon, Pete. You can do it!"

Artie and Myka watched anxiously as Pete's eyelids lifted more until they could finally see part of his dark, gleaming pupils. Myka swallowed hard at the lack of life in his eyes, now filled with a tearing, burning pain. She sighed in ache. She had seen those eyes so many times ready to tease her. But now, only a ghostly stare crossed her eyes, and then like the first time, his eyes closed again as if he had no more strength to stay awake.

"Whatever you got Artie, I'm ready for it!" She turned to her friend, her eyes showing all her determination. She wasn't going to let Pete fade away like that. Never. Whatever the risks she would be there for him.

She watched as Artie dressed a quick bandage around Pete's arm and readjusted Chauliac's eggs bio-connection. He sighed as the thin, tentacles seemed to sink further in Pete's neck and wrists. Then, he looked up to Leena standing in the threshold, he pointed at the dressing and she nodded instantly.

"Let's go downstairs," he said, turning toward Myka. "Leena will take care of this new cut and I'll explain to you how we're going to proceed. We don't have much time."

Her lips tight, Myka nodded and followed Artie, her eyes still lingering on the pale form of her partner. She didn't want to leave Pete alone, but if she wanted to save him, she had no choice.

"So what is it?" she asked as soon as they reached the main room.

"We're going to use this ring," replied Artie as he pulled a small jewelry box from his pocket and opened it. "It's Carl Jung's ring. He used it to go inside his patients dreams and help them to recover from old subconscious wounds."

"Okay, so what?" She looked at him with hope. "I just put that around my finger and I'm in Pete's dreams?"

"Yes, pretty much."

"Then, let's do it now." Myka turned on her heel, heading back to the stairs.

"Ah, Myka!" He called out in panic. "You can't go in there without preparation."

She froze and turned back to look at him. "What kind of preparation?" Seeing Pete's state he couldn't wait hours for her to be ready.

"Well, you need to be able to recognize Pete's dreams from yours." He sighed. "And well, you must know that your time in his psyche will be limited."

"I'm pretty sure I 'll know the difference between the two." She frowned. "How long?"

He narrowed his eyelids. "A couple of hours, after that there's a risk you'll be sucked in the dream and can't find your way back. But don't worry, I will be there to wake you up if..."

"So what else do I need to know?" she quickly cut him off.

He frowned. "Myka, this isn't going to be a walk in the park. I know you want to save Pete, but Neverland won't let you do whatever you want there. You need to learn a lot of things before..."

"I know the essential, Artie. Pete is dying, and I'm not gonna let him down again."

He frowned at her words. "Again, what do you mean?"

She sighed and her eyes connected to his. "Just give me the cliff note, Artie."

He shook his head. "Myka, if Pete is..." He hesitated at using dreadful words. "Well it's not your fault." He insisted.

She looked down, her lips tightening as a surge of deep sorrow flooded her chest. "You don't understand, Artie." She sighed, her eyes sweeping the room in search of something to anchor her drifting, painful heart. "Pete always got my back. Even when I wasn't so nice with him. And now he's in pain, and I wasn't there when he needed me the most. Do you understand? I should have stayed! I should have been there for him!" Her hands clutched into fists, her nails slowly cutting into her thin skin.

He sighed and stepped to her. His lips tight, his hands patted her arms before he drew her into him. Amazingly, she let herself sink into his embrace without a fight, her eyes filled with tears. "Not your fault, Myka. Not your fault," he repeated. His hands stroked her back as she let out a quiet sob into his shoulder. "Not your fault," he whispered.

…_**TBC

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**_

**A/N:** well hope you liked this chapter, more actions in the next one if you're still up for it. So let me know and have all a great Sunday.


	3. The dive

**Chapter 3:** The dive

**A/N:** Thanks guys for reviewing the first two chapters, and all the alerts and fav. And a special thanks to Kjay99 for all the great work in beta-ing this story.

**Summary:** Set few months after Reset. Myka has left the W13. Now she receives news from Warehouse 13 as a friend is in need. Pete Myka

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, besides the characters I created for this story. Warehouse 13 belongs to the SYFY channel, and Neverland to John Barry.

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Myka slowly leaned on the bed, her eyes not leaving his pale face. Pete seemed so fragile that it broke her heart to see him like that. She had never thought she would see him down like that, never. _I'm trained to take a bullet,_ he had grunted with a wincing smile at their first mission. And he had proved a couple of times that he was ready for it; the spine being one of those heroic times she had engraved in her memory. Pete, the White Knight. A faint smile spread over her lips. That day, he had taken the spine to protect her and make sure that no one would get hurt after him.

Her lips tightened as her eyes slowly ran over his wounded body wrapped under the blue blankets. Anyone unbeknowing of his ordeal and entering the room right now would have found him deep asleep, pale from a flu or something. But Myka unfortunately knew the real truth about his bruised and wounded body hidden by the thick layers set to warm his failing body. Pete was now alone in a world of torment and pain, and she wondered if she would ever see him playing the hero again, though she would have preferred him teasing her or doing one of his victory dances than seeing him like that.

She sighed and lay down near him. It felt weird to be so close to him on the same bed and not teasing him about one of his comic books. But another part of her, found it comforting at the same time to be finally close to him after so long. She had missed her friend, her partner. She had missed all his jokes and their bickering. Being there with him, although he couldn't talk, felt really as if she was back home. She smiled sadly. Her gaze followed the lines of his pale jaw, marked by a purplish bruise on his right side. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the new pain that had resurfaced on his face.

"You got to hang on, Pete." She whispered, her lips inches of his ear. "I'm coming to get you, okay?" she tightened her lips as he didn't move, his eyelids too damn still. _Wait for me, Pete._

She looked up to see Artie sitting on the other side of the bed, both of them now surrounding Pete. "Ready?" His eyes locked with hers and she could swear he was about to ask her to renounce again.

_No way!_ A quick frown creased her forehead and it was enough for Artie to close his mouth, understanding she had made up her mind.

She nodded slightly. Yes she was ready. Only half an hour had passed since Pete had screamed, tearing her heart in pieces in the same way, and she was sure, every human soul around. Artie had taught her a trick to avoid being caught forever in this Neverland and to wake up on her own if she had any problem. He had quickly talked about vicious enemies lingering in the dark corners, but as long as she would stay in the light she had nothing to fear had he precised. That wasn't the case for Pete. He was the main course for these things: "_these shadows"_ as Artie had called them. They feasted on human souls like sharks on a bleeding baby seal.

Artie quickly checked Pete's vitals and avoided her sight doing so. She knew he was frustrated he hadn't been able to tell her all he thought she should know. She just couldn't listen patiently to him while her partner was dying, and screaming in vain terror upstairs. The senior agent had quickly realized this, though she was sure that for him too it was difficult to keep a straight face with Pete's heartwrenching screams. So he had finally shortened his teachings to a dream survival kit. It was now time to rescue Pete.

Her head deepened in the pillow beneath her, and Myka felt the mattress curved under Claudia's weight. "Get him back, Sis," said the young techie, a forced smile painted over her face.

Myka gave her a large smile. "Don't worry, Clau. Even if I have to yank him back by the collar I will bring him back."

Claudia smiled at her reassuring words. "Tell him that if he goes Vader on us, I'll chop all his comic books. Even the mint condition ones," she bragged before stepping back with a sheepish grin.

A weak smile spread over Myka's face as she offered a small wink at her adopted sister. "I will, Claudia."

Behind Claudia, Leena patted her shoulder like an older sister. "Remember to watch out for the shadows," she softly advised.

Myka nodded and turned to see Artie giving her his worried pout. "Where's the ring?"

"I have it here," he replied taking it from the velvet box. With a deep sigh, his gloved purple fingers grabbed the silver ring. He stared at Pete unconscious and then at Myka lay beside him. "Be careful in there."

Slowly, he slipped the ring around her middle finger. A faint, bluish glow instantly surrounded her hand. The blue light remained like a cloud of gas around her skin, before it started to crawl toward her chest and head, wrapping her whole body in a blue, cloudy cocoon.

As soon as she felt the ring's power, Myka tried to speak to Artie. She wanted to tell him that things were going to be all right, but her eyelids were suddenly very heavy. So heavy that she didn't realize the moment they were closed and she had left reality. Everything spun around her. Her stomach churned at the spinning twisting fall into the sudden darkness. She tried to hang on at something, anything but only darkness surrounded her. She was alone now, falling and God knows where she was heading. _Hopefully I won't attract a shadow right away..._

_**xxx**_

Artie let out a deep sigh. His eyes crossed Leena's with dread.

Claudia gave him a weird look as she sensed his trouble. "Dude! Chill out! She's gonna get him out," she said more to reassure herself and counter the worried look he was offering her.

He shook his head with a deep sigh. "Claudia," he replied trying to be patient with his younger one. "I have no doubt about Myka's ability. I'm more worried about what she might see or live there. Neverland is a twisted country where no one should ever set a foot upon, even more if you know someone who has fallen in. There's too many possibilities to stumble on things and..." his voice trailed off, his face becoming grim.

She shrugged, her eyes wide opened. "But we tried. I mean each of us used the ring, two days ago, right? And nothing in particular happened to us."

He shook his head, his eyes narrowed into a smirk. "Yes and how many minutes did you remain there? Remind me?" He asked with a raising tone.

"Huh, some..."

He huffed with a satisfied stare. "Do you even remember anything at all?"

"Ah no. But..." tried Claudia.

"That's the point, Claudia. You don't remember because you were rejected by Pete as soon as he spotted you." He sighed, his hand quickly brushing his salty hair and taking his glasses off. "Probably because his protective side was up and still running." He clenched his teeth anxiously, his tone rising even more from his chest. "He ejected you as soon as he felt you going there. His subconscious knows how dangerous this place is, so that's why he refused your help. He knew it would be too dangerous for you."

"Hey! Nobody kicks Claudia out!" She frowned and wrapped her arms around her chest. "You got tossed away too!" she replied, half hurt, thinking that Pete could have rejected her, even for her own protection. They were like brother and sister. No way he would have done that in real life. Her brows furrowed in deep thoughts. _Wouldn't he?_

"Yes, he rejected me as well," cut Artie. He pushed back his glasses on his nose. "But I had the time to make a connection with him before, and to see..." He sighed, his lips suddenly tight. No, he couldn't tell Claudia what he had seen. Truth was, there was some stuff that nobody should ever witness about a friend, especially in a land artificially created by an artifact. "Never mind," he finally dropped as he stood up and went to sit in a nearby chair.

"No, tell us, Artie. What did you see? Why are you so worried about?" insisted Claudia. "You're freakin' me out! Now spit it out, Geezer!"

He shook his head as he slightly bent toward his knees with tiredness. "Things that are there shouldn't be spoken of, never!" His voice uttered coldly. He stood up nervously again, and his glare clearly stated that the conversation was over. He glanced at Leena. "It might take her some time."

Leena smiled and patted Claudia's shoulder. "Better prepare more coffee then." She watched as Artie nodded and silently paced the room in deep thought. Claudia watched him, her face getting paler within the minute. Leena considered getting Claudia out of Pete's room for a moment. Artie needed some peace too, and with the young techie she feared it wasn't going to happen soon. "Claudia, can you help me?"

Her lips tight, the young red haired raised a silent gaze checking on Artie before following her. Whatever happened now, Pete's fate remained in Myka's hands. At least she hoped she would have a better chance than any of them, as she didn't really want to think about Artie's dreadful scenario. She sighed. Remembering her own little project, she decided she should head back to the warehouse asap. Maybe it would become handy anyway.

_**xxx **_

Everywhere she looked was dark and it seemed the world had no real consistence. Her hand met nothing but air. She breathed heavily. Her heart beat loudly in her chest. _Where am I?_ Anxiety slowly rose inside her and Myka surprised herself by feeling the little panic seeping inside her mind. Usually she had a better control over her emotions. She frowned, not sure it wasn't Neverland that was already affecting her.

She was floating slowly, unable to touch or move. There was no pain; nothing. Her body was light and without substance. _Hmm._ She frowned. If she had made it into Pete's subconscious, then she wasn't material anymore. That wasn't easy to go with it. She wasn't like Pete. This was a complete new side of reality. In her world, reality wasn't supposed to be so _unreal_. Even when they had entered Warehouse 2, her soul had conveyed Artie's office. That one was more than real, aside of a few details, but here there was nothing, and that was really creepy.

"Pete." Her voice echoed in the infinity of the darkness. "Pete?" she bit her lower lip as nothing happened. This place was so strange. She couldn't see a thing, not even her body or a light or... _Wait!_ There was a light glowing in the background. Her heart skipped in her chest at the faint glimmer of hope.

Floating nervously closer to the light, the glow seemed to increase in size. She was drawn to it like a fish to the water, and finally, after doing some eerie strokes to get closer, the light wrapped her entirely. She blinked at the hard contrast, and when she opened her eyes she was standing in front of a small house. _Standing_, she smiled, that was the word. She preferred that. Being on her two legs was more familiar and at least she had the feeling she could act now.

Before her was a giant green field of oaks sparse and a little house nestled in the middle. A green truck was parked in the grass alley. The place looked peaceful and quiet. The sun shone warmly on her face. It felt good compared to the initial, cold darkness she had went through. She smiled at the sound of humming birds flying in the trees nearby. For a moment she closed her eyes, lingering in the warmth of the peaceful place. A feeling of being loved surrounded her. Her smile grew more, wondering if this place was Pete's Neverland or if she was the one who had created it. Artie had told her that everyone created their own Neverland, and though it seemed really appealing at first, there was always something crooked about it. She frowned, though for the moment she had to admit that the place was charming. _Like all the artifact in the warehouse before they become a freaking crazy deadly weapon_, her mind added in dread.

The main door opened and a tall man dressed in a dark outfit exited. She could see a red patch on his right arm but she was too far to see exactly what it was. The man quickly tossed a bag in the back of his truck and whistled loudly, his fingers in his mouth. Shortly after, a small boy with dark, brown, mussed hair and a mischievous smile appeared from a bush. He rushed up quickly to the man with a boyish grin and plunged blindly into the man's arms who caught him with a joyful laugh. Shyly, Myka walked toward them as both started to talk not paying any attention to her.

"Easy, kiddo! Don't want you to get hurt." The man brushed the kid's hair back revealing the mischievous grin planted on a face blotted with mud. "What have you been doing?" the man asked bewildered, his big thumb brushing away a spot of dried mud over the kid's dark eyebrow.

"Ah just searching for some old artifacts." The kid grinned. "I settled a perimeter and started to sketch the whole area but with the rain from yesterday I slipped and..."

"Yeah, yeah," interrupted the man, ruffling the kid's hair with a smirk. "Keep those stories for your mother." He grinned with a complicit look to his son and broke their embrace. "You were digging. I saw your sketches yesterday."

The kid offered a weak smile as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Hey Dad, I needed to train for my summer archeologist class."

Myka smiled at the reply, and wondered a second who was that kid. Pete had never talked about a brother or a cousin being an archeologist. Though the dark brown eyes staring at the father seemed very familiar. She bit her lower lip, wondering if the kid could be...

"Matthew? Have you seen your son?" called a female voice from inside a house.

Matthew raised his brows as he looked at his son. "Told you your mother would be looking for you, Pete. Go clean up before she can see in what mess you put yourself into again."

"Ah she's used to it by now, Dad," quipped Pete with a mischievous grin.

"Pete?" repeated Myka. So she was really in one of his dreams, or his past maybe. But if it was his past, it meant it was before he lost his dad. Her eyes settled on the smiling face of little Pete as he nodded and smiled to his dad, unknowing that he would lose him soon. Her heart squeezed in her chest as father and son hugged each other tenderly. No wonder Pete had chosen this place. It was probably his happiest place on earth. She smiled. Pete had always acted with his heart first.

His father chuckled and offered him a complicit look. "C'mon Pete, Go!"

"Yes Sir," replied little Pete before he offered a mock salute to his father and rushed inside.

Myka couldn't have missed the mischievous grin stained with mud as he saluted his dad. Always the cocky, fancy smile whatever happened. If she had any doubt about the identity of the kid it was erased with that showy, sparkling smile. It was obvious it was Pete. _Her Pete,_ her mind added with a victorious smile, she had found him.

The man cracked a smile and jumped inside his truck. Her gaze followed him leaving the place before she turned toward the entrance. A bit shy, she decided to enter Pete's childhood home anyway, after all she had come to help and there was no point staying outside. Besides, she must admitted she was a bit curious to know more about the little Pete. Until now her friend had been a little secretive, only telling her a bit of this and a bit of that. Aside the death of his father, he had never talked about anything else, unless it came out in their conversation. She tightened her lips, hoping she wasn't going to witness anything embarrassing for him.

"Pete?" called a woman inside. "Where are you, boy?"

Myka stepped quietly inside the house though she wasn't worried about making too much sound. She had noticed his father hadn't even noticed her although she had stood few yards from them. She assumed then that it was going to be the same with everyone.

"Right here, mama."

Myka turned to Pete's voice coming from the dining room. The place was really classy but comfy at the same time. Creamy curtains veiled the shining sunrays, and the floor was covered with a thick golden carpet giving the whole place a real warm touch. She smiled, she had always imagined Pete living in this kind of warm environment as a kid. To be the joyful man he had become, he had to live in a warm and loving place. _He had to, right?_

She frowned as a soft song filled the room the moment she spotted Pete. His back to her, he was sitting behind a piano, playing. She instantly froze under the charm of his play. Her heart skipped in her chest at the melodious tune he was creating. She bit her lower lip discovering something new about her former partner. Pete had learned to play piano much sooner than she had thought, and for 12, he seemed pretty good.

For a minute she just stared at his back, watching how absorbed he was by the music, his small shoulders slumping forward with the tune. Slowly, she circled him and noticed his eyes closed while his hands danced on the keyboard in perfect rhythm with the song. It warmed her heart to see him enjoying himself. At least, part of him was still alive here. There was hope then.

"Here you are, my little genius," quipped a woman with dark hair and a green nurse uniform entering the room.

_Genius?_ Myka smiled at the nickname. Though she had always known Pete was consciously hiding his skills, _genius_ wouldn't have been the first word coming to her mind. Well minus the fact he solved twice the enigmas than her when they were in the Warehouse 2.

"I'm sorry, Honey but I have to go. Gracie is sick, and Dr March wants me to watch out for her patients as well. I might be out all night. Will you be all right?" She gently patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry, ma. I have plenty of things to do."

She nodded to Pete and bent to read the title of the tabs he was playing. She frowned. "Is it the one your dad bought for you yesterday?" she asked with a genuine smile.

Pete kept playing, and opened his eyes. "Yup." His smile had grown to his ears, and Myka couldn't suppress a small twinge at her heart, recognizing the same cocky warm smile he used to offer her.

His mother stroke his back. "And you already know it?" she chuckled proudly. "Though I shouldn't be surprised, with the top grades you managed to earn again this year. You know Pete, if you keep working this hard at school you should be able to choose whatever college you want later."

Pete turned to his mother with his mischievous grin, his hands still dancing on the keyboard. "Nah, I just want to be an archeologist and play music whenever I want."

His mother gently put back a small tiny strand of dark hair behind his ear as his face turned back to the keyboard. "My little genius," she whispered, lying a gentle kiss on his temple. "Well with the rate and accuracy you're playing with, you sure could make good money with it, son."

Myka observed the scene dumbfounded. She knew about his piano skills but had never asked him to play. She sighed. Nor she had ever thought he was so damn good on piano or even at school. Pete had always appeared like a jock, not the kind of guy you assumed was earning good grades at school. She frowned, unlike her. But on the other hand, Pete had more than once surprised her. But why hide that part of him? Why play the jock when he had been a smart kid? Her brows creased in confusion. Or maybe it was his fantasy? Maybe he had always dreamed to be a genius and was living it with Neverland?

"So are you still going to see Amy today?" His mother gathered her purse and her keys.

He nodded quietly, his small frame moving softly with the music. "Her bike needs to be fixed, and she wanted me to help her out with her homework."

"All right then, Pete. Be good. Your sister should be back home around eight." His mother frowned as he stopped looking at her. "You call the hospital if you need me, okay?"

He grinned and turned to her, giving her a big hug as she had came closer. "I'll be okay. I know the drill. Not the first summer I'll spend here alone."

His mother gently stroke his cheek, biting her lower lip. "I know. I just wish your dad and I could be there more often for you."

"Go work and bring us food," he said with a large smile as to reassure her. "I need more cookies," he stated with a splashy grin.

"Sure you do, Pete." Her smile widened and she walked to the door before she disappeared totally.

Myka shook her head with a wide grin and turned to look at Pete watching the door. The faint roar of an engine filled the room and few seconds later a deafening silence settled in. Looking closer at her friend, a dark shadow appeared in the depth of his brown eyes. A long line wrinkled his forehead as he turned back to the piano. Had she just seen him being worried? But he had said he was fine. What was going on?

She approached him, wondering if she would be able to talk to him, but he started to play again, his eyes closed. Though this time, something stiff in his attitude raised an alarm inside her.

Pete was playing a new song, but this one was moody and sadder. She shivered at the small chills getting under her skin. _Oh yeah_, he was really good playing piano. For a moment she gazed at his face scrunched into a deep, serious frown. Pete was living his music, but this one obviously was tearing his soul open. Something was wrong, really wrong. Suddenly the idyllic painting of the wonderful family and the warm cocoon fell apart. Pete was sad, she could feel it. _Not the first time,_ he had said. Was he always alone when he was a kid? So young, with both parents out? She had always complained about her father being all over her back, but it seemed it had been the contrary for Pete. She tightened her lips, and realized that this kind of life had to be tough, maybe that was why he had never spoken about it.

"I want you gone. I'm not crazy," echoed Pete's voice, breaking the moody atmosphere.

Surprised, Myka turned around to see to who he was talking to, but after her sight had quickly swept the main room and found no one else but her, she had to conclude they were alone.

The music stopped as his hands rested on his laps. His eyes were still closed when he talked again. "Yes, you, the woman," he said with an accusing tone. "You're not real. You're just a figment of my imagination. So go away!"

He could see her? Well that was great then. Now she just had to convince him to come back with her. _Bring him hope,_ whispered her mind. _And how am I supposed to do that?_ Her rational side quipped bitterly. She frowned. "I'm real, Pete."

He sighed and quickly his fingers rubbed his eyes, drying a few tears that were hidden by his closed eyes. "You're as real as the other ghosts, and I don't want to see any of you." He stood up suddenly, shoving the bench behind him. The furniture banged in a clap of thunder as it fell on the floor, and the walls echoed loudly with pain.

Myka watched as reality seemed to tremble around her. The house and walls wobbled before Pete left the house in a mad dash.

"What? What ghost?" Myka followed him, but as she reached the door, he was already on his bike and running away. "Pete? No, don't leave! Pete!"

She rushed behind him, but he was too far away and she quickly lost him after a few turns. Alone in the middle of the street, her fists tightened against her sides. _Ghost?_ What the hell was he talking about? _Pete_, her mind questioned. _I swear, you're gonna have a lot to tell me when we're back._

_**...TBC

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**_

**A/N:** Well hope you liked that chapter. Though since the reviews dropped last chapter I wonder if you're still interested in this story and if I should continue?


	4. Alone

**Chapter 4:** Alone

**A/N:** Thanks guys for the reviews and fav, really warmed my heart! Also to Luna Vampire Princess, Shipper50096, mentalagent13 and AM since you didn't log I couldn't answer to you personaly guys, sorry, but thanks for taking the time to review.

And again a great thanks to Kjay99 for the beta , you girl rock!

**Summary:** Set few months after Reset. Myka has left the W13. Now she receives news from Warehouse 13 as a friend is in need. Pete Myka

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, besides the characters I created for this story. Warehouse 13 belongs to the SYFY channel, and Neverland to John Barry.

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"You think she's okay? That she found him and convinced him to leave la-lal-and?" asked nervously Claudia. She paced Pete's room for the hundredth time, her hands moving as fast as her nervous speech.

Artie frowned behind his thin glasses. "Claudia," he said with a soft tone, trying to be reassuring and soothing her fears. "I have honestly no idea. But it could help if you stayed still for a while." He sighed, surely it would help the slight dizziness he felt rising from her constant motion of back and forth.

She froze in the middle of the room. "How being still will help?" She asked her eyes wide and her purple strand falling softly on her cheek.

"It's not being still." He sighed, giving up. _Why is it that people never listen to what I say? _He shook his head. He always had to give information and convince them. "It's about lowering your negative energy. It affects the eggs and Pete as well."

"You mean I'm affecting him?" She pointed at Pete under the covers. Her eyes widened as she sat quickly, her knees tight together and her arms around them. "Geeze! Why didn't you say something earlier?" her high voice pitched.

He rolled his eyes. "I did."

"Not loud enough," she snorted with a deep frown. Her hands made big circles in the intent to let out her anxiety. "Just how can my energy affect Pete, or the eggs?"

"All energy is connected, Claudia," he explained softly. "And the closer you become with someone, the stronger your energies connect and affect each other."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. "Oh c'mon, me? Affecting Pete?" She smiled sheepishly at Artie. "Or you?" her eyes rolled to the ceiling. "C'mon, the man doesn't give a damn about anything we say. Pete always goes with his own, secret _rhythm,_" she smirked.

"Not true, Claudia," intervened Leena as she had entered the room. "I saw your aura, and Pete's. They change depending on who's around, and what people say to him." She stopped before the bed, looking at Pete wrapped under the blankets. With a gentle gaze she followed the lines of his weary face. "Pete is more affected by any of us than you might think." She turned toward her friend with a slight pout. "He just doesn't like to show it. That's all."

Claudia frowned. "You mean he bottles up everything inside, like Artie."

Artie offered a pleading look at Leena.

The BnB's caretaker nodded with a slight smile. "Pretty much." She let out a small sigh. "You know, it's not uncommon for people who are so much in tune with their environment. It's a way to protect themselves and the others around from their intuition. So it's not surprising he's so affected by us." She smiled weakly. "And you have no idea how much his aura changed since Myka is linked to him, even though he didn't make a move."

The tech smiled, and elbowed Leena with a grin. "I knew those two weren't just exchanging friendly glances, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" cut Artie, his eyes wide open, and leaving Barry's book he had picked up the minute the conversation had diverged to what seemed a useless subject to him.

Claudia smiled at Leena, both understanding each other. "Dads are always the last to notice..." her voice trailed off, offering a complicit look to the caretaker.

Leena nodded with a broad smile. "I'm going to get some food. Would you two like something?"

"Ah no, thanks," Artie grumbled before going back to his reading, a copy of the same book that was making Pete sick, but this one was safe to touch.

Claudia rolled her eyes at his posture. "Can't eat either." She looked at Pete and Myka, both lying still on the bed. Though Pete's ashen face was making no doubt about who was the sick one. She swallowed hard and heard Leena spoke.

"She'll bring him back, Claudia."

The young tech nodded, unable to talk as a big knot had formed in her throat. In truth, she wasn't ready to lose any of them. Since she had met them and had been able to save Joshua, the Warehouse's team had become her family. Swept from one shelter to the other, the team here was the closest thing she had ever had as a family, and she wasn't ready to lose either Pete or Myka. Both were like her bigger brother and sister. Her lips tightened as she offered a small nod at Leena. She hoped deep inside her friend was right. _Please Myka, bring him back home, and don't get hurt._

_**xxx**_

The night had long started as Myka sat in one of the comfy armchairs at Pete's home. All day she had been able to follow him after she first realized that she just needed to focus her mind on him. She didn't need to rush after him. She just had to think about him, and the next second she would find herself a few yards from him. And she had to admit, thinking of him wasn't that hard. A deep frown creased her forehead. Today had been a real revelation for her as she had found Pete at his friend's place; Amy.

As Pete was Pete, she had expected to find him helping that girl, well, because she was a girl. At least that was what he would have told her she imagined. Truth was, Pete hadn't behaved like a crazy puppy around that girl. _Nope._ In fact, she had seen him being kind and patient with the little girl as he was teaching her math. She smirked, realizing she would have never thought to associate _Pete_ and _math teaching_ in the same sentence over than him being punished for not doing his homework. Although if she was honest, he had said at their first meeting that he was a specialist in logistics and framing; so a problem solver with information and people, but math?

A small smile curved her lips. As for his kindness, well, she had to confess, this side of him wasn't surprising her at all. After all, he had been very complying and _nice_ with her at their first meeting, even though she hadn't. He had supported her in more than one occasion and had always found a way to compliment her and make her feel good when she was really sad. She let out a weak sigh. In fact, it was this side of him that she particularly liked. Hmm, well that she liked. She frowned. _Okay_, she had feelings a bit stronger than just what friends should share, all the more reasons why she had to leave the warehouse in the first place. She couldn't get involved with her partner again, especially if the feelings weren't met on the other side. She bit her lower lip, her gaze slowly wandering over the small shoulders tensing under the white t-shirt.

She frowned. She saw two options offered to her then. Either Pete had built all this fantasy, making him a small genius at twelve, or it was a memory from his past. She sighed. If it was a fantasy, why not making it perfect, and have your parents with you, instead of being alone all day, and bearing that look of loneliness? That made no sense, Pete had too much imagination not to make his fantasy the most appealing and brightening for him. She sighed again, now confused. Did it mean that she was witnessing his memory? But then, why had he hidden it from her? They were partners, and he knew almost everything about her parents and her childhood. Why would he keep all this secret? And what about that statement of seeing ghosts? _Oh hell._ She was lost now. _Damn it! _Being in Pete's subconscious was as troubling as dealing with him all day; too destabilizing for her.

She tightened her lips, remembering when she had finally found Pete today. He had thrown her a dark glare as soon as he had spotted her. He was obviously not happy that she was back. Between him fixing Amy's bike and explaining her how to solve her maths problem, she had finally decided to play along with Pete's day, waiting for the best opportunity to talk to him. As Artie had explained, time and space didn't have the same density inside dreams. What happened there in a day, could mean a few hours in the real world. She shook her head. Though she couldn't lose time, Pete's physical body couldn't afford more torturing hours, let alone more days.

Pete was now back at the piano. He had been for the last three hours, judging by the time the sun had gone into hiding, and the grey shadows filling the room now. A small smile played over her lips as he started a new song. All day he hadn't stopped surprising her. From what she had learned so far in this memory, Pete appeared to be a real genius: good grades at school; a cool DIY kid helping others and an amazing pianist. Her gaze lingered on his small frame moving in rhythm with the music. He looked so peaceful and at the same time so sad. He wanted to be an archeologist and a musician and somehow she couldn't help but wonder if the death of his dad had changed his plans. How had someone so gifted with the music and for so many other things become an agent working with the secret services?

She bit her lower lip and watched him intensely as he played on the keyboard. A melodious but really sad song filled the air. Loneliness and sadness radiated from him, as he gave her a sad pout. She knew he had noticed her, but he seemed doing his best to ignore her. Though when the music was really sad like now, he would steal a quick glance at her, as if checking that he wasn't completely alone. She offered a tight smile to the lonely little boy that was her friend. He seemed so gifted and at the same time so alone inside. It broke her heart to see that little kid, who would become her friend years later, so sad and so stranded. She wanted to take him in her arms, and tell him that things were going to be all right. But things weren't going to be all right. She clenched her jaw until it hurt. His father was going to die, and Pete... She sighed. Pete was probably going to change because of that. So the vision of this smart kid playing piano all by himself before such terrible events hit home, was just too much for her heart to bear. She promised herself that as soon as they would be back in the real world, she would make sure that he wouldn't let that kind of wound linger in his heart. As hard as it had been for her to talk about her folks, she surely could help him to do the same and pour his heart out. Well, that is if he let her in.

A ringing bell echoed three times from the hall, pulling her back from her thoughts.

Pete instantly stopped playing and stood up with a wide grin. His right hand danced again on the keyboard, as he found the tune he wanted to play, and repeated the small happy march as Myka heard keys turn in the lock. _What is this about?_

Soon, a tall blond woman stepped inside the room, a wide grin plastered on her face. Her lips moved but no sound came out as her fingers danced with the music.

_Must be his sister._

"My day was great," replied happily Pete as he looked at his sister. He sighed inwardly. No way he was going to tell her about that freakin' ghost still lingering in the corner of the room. He glanced quickly at the keyboard and his right hand, played a few happy notes before he looked back at his sister. It was a code between them. The music helped them to stay connected through the vibrations born from each note. "How did you do at the lab, Lorie?"

Lorie stepped closer and offered him a warm hug, stopping his playful music and plunging the room in serious silence. She gazed at Pete, her blue ocean eyes searching inside Pete's. Then, her lips moved once again, her hands quickly signing a few other words she had in mind. Pete frowned, reading both with a serious look.

"Nah!" he replied with a wide, forced grin, his eyelids folded mischievously, and his mouth emphasizing his word. "I'm fine. Mama had to go to the hospital," he smirked. _Again_. "As always, but it's cool. So what about...?"

His sister cut him off as she looked at him with a deep frown, one hand patting his shoulders gently, while the other signed and finished with a small tap over her chest. From her seat in the corner, Myka watched the silent talk between brother and sister. It seemed his sister hadn't bought his lie. _Hmm,_ neither did she.

Pete sighed, his shoulders falling slightly. A dark gloomy shadow returned in his brown sad eyes, sending a chill down her back. "No. I haven't seen anything... _special_, today," he said from the tips of his lips, as he broke their closeness. _I'm not gonna talk about that again. I'm fine,_ his mind defended.

His sister shook her head with more worries and he nodded with more energy, stepping away from her with a deep frown. "No, I'm telling you, I haven't seen any..." he clenched his jaw. "... _ghost_ today, all right. I'm fine, Sis!" He glanced quickly at Myka before he looked up to his sister, affecting a broad grin.

Myka winced, recognizing the fake smile he offered her sometimes when he wanted to reassure her about him and drop the subject.

"I'm okay, don't worry. Your brother isn't crazy." _Gosh, why does deaf have to be so perceptive?_

Lorie bit her lower lip and seemed to look around as to check he was saying the truth. Her gaze went to Myka but she didn't seem to notice her. Then, she looked back at Pete, her lips moving, and making a slight pout.

Pete shook his head in denial. "No, I'm not saying that to mom and dad. It's just my imagination, Lorie. There's nothing more to it." Quickly, his eyes went to Myka, as if hoping she could disappear and leave him alone once and for all. _Can't I get a break from that freakin' world? _But she remained there and he looked back at Lorie with a small apology. He was glad to see his sister, but he couldn't stand the look of utter worries in her eyes. It was like he had become a freak the day he had confessed her what he had seen in his bathroom, and since then, he was sure, she thought he should get his head checked.

"I'm tired. I'll see you tomorrow." He muffled between clenched teeth. Okay, that wasn't nice to leave like that, but honestly, this conversation was taking a freaking turn he wasn't ready to deal with. He wasn't crazy. He had just a big wacky imagination. That was all.

Myka watched with a pinch at her heart as he left the room, his shoulder low and climbed upstairs. She closed her eyes to focus her mind on him, and as happened before she was in his room the moment he opened the door and put the light on. He glanced at her quickly. She noticed his red eyes from threatening tears before he turned the light off. Obviously she wasn't welcomed and he intended to see her as little as he had to.

"Can't you all leave me alone!" he shouted angrily before he crashed on the bed and buried his face in the pillow.

"I'm sorry, Pete," she said. "I came here to help you. You're..."

"Shut up! Shut up!" he shouted though his voice was a bit muffled by the pillow. He put his hand on his ears as to shut down the entire world. "I don't want to hear you!" he groaned with pain. "Never! You're not real! I don't want to see you!"

Her lips tight, she stepped back, not sure what to do. She knew the words weren't meant for her, Myka, his friend, but it ached anyway, sinking like a sharp blade through her heart. Pete had no memories of her, and when she tried to get closer, he was running away. How the hell was she going to pull him out of this altered reality?

Fate answered for her as the room spun around her in a maelstrom of dark and bright colors. She had barely the time to hang on to something and before she realized what had happened, the stars shifted through the open window and were replaced by the sun. It was high and bright in the sky, bathing the room and the little frame of her friend through a shower of golden rays. Pete was deeply asleep, sprawled over the bed, his face sunk into the fluffy pillows, and his hands slipped underneath. Although he was still, his weary fight with himself was still visible as she noticed the taut muscles stiffening his neck and shoulders.

With a deep breath she took a small step toward him. _What the hell had happened again? A leap in time? But to where? His future? His past? Or another reality? _Although all these questions turned inside her head, she couldn't suppress a small smile to curve her lips as she observed Pete defenseless. He was so cute like that. Hard to believe he was going to be the strong, tough man she had come to appreciate and love and... She frowned._ Love?_ _Well, yes,_ Pete was like a brother so saying she loved him wasn't a bad thing, _right?_ She froze a few yards from the bed. It wasn't as if any of them had deeper feelings others than friendship. She sighed, her heart suddenly squeezing in her chest for no apparent reason. She was still analyzing her thoughts when he suddenly sprang to life, and sat upright, fear painted over his sleepy face.

"Dad?" he whispered, his breath short, and a look of sheer fear glazing in his dark, brown eyes. "What the heck is that?" Pete looked around seeming confused. His stare stopped on his open hands before he swallowed slowly. He had to be dreaming. It had to be his crazy imagination. His gut twisted madly inside, and he felt sick. His blurring vision slowly cleared and he narrowed his eyes as he noted the same woman that had stalked him all day sitting in a corner of his room.

Without a word, he jumped from his bed. _Same clothes from the day before,_ noted Myka, cracking a smile at his mussed hair and his t-shirt hanging loosely from his jeans. _Future then,_ her mind added at the sight of his wrinkled attire. Twenty years later, he was still the same pretty boy in the morning. Her smile quickly faded when his left hand gripped over his heart and his face scrunched in a painful grimace before he could reach the door.

In a matter of seconds Pete crumbled to his knees. An image of his father printed before his eyes. A sickening feeling of gloom invaded his mind, grasping at his thoughts like a cold reptilian predator. "Noooo," he moaned weakly, a tearing pain wrenching his chest and stabbing his heart. _That can't be! _his mind shot in despair. _This just can't be!_

Myka was by his side in one step.

He looked up, raising an angry stare to her as he stood up on shaky legs, avoiding her helping hand. "You're not real!" he growled, his voice bearing both his pain and burning fear. He angrily shoved her hand away from him, avoiding her eyes. He just couldn't look at her.

He swallowed the hard knot in his throat before opening the door and took a deep breath. His hand remained on the handle for a second as he swayed on his legs and his face became flush. His mind was confused. The world around him seemed to spin lightly, rocking him one way and then the other. Slowly, he took again a long, deep breath, and as his strength seemed to come back he started into a slow walk without a glance for the entity squatting his room. _She's a ghost, _his mind repeated. _Don't let her get too close of you, Pete, don't let her in! _

Myka watched stunned as Pete had refused her help again, and was now leaving his room as if he was walking toward his own death. _What the heck was that?_ Her lips tightened at the pain she remembered seeing in his brown eyes. _What had just happened to him? Was it Neverland doing it and claiming his sanity?_

"I'm leaving, Honey," came his father's voice from downstairs.

Myka quickly followed Pete, as he stumbled down the stairs obviously more affected than he wanted to show. She wondered what was happening to him and how she could help. But as little Pete finally rushed to his dad, a sudden gut feeling invaded her. _Oh God! It couldn't be! _Artie's words echoed in her mind like a dreadful sword slashing through her heart. _This nasty artifact re-awakens any former wounds... anything that was buried, is unleashed to burn and hurt again but with a multiplied force, crushing the will and body of the victim. _Myka froze a few feet from the father and son, realizing how cruel Neverland was with Pete. That crazy stupid artifact hadn't taken any old memory to torment Pete. No, it had shot straight through his heart: his father!

"Dad?" came out Pete's strangled voice. His eyes rose to his dad with a turmoil of emotions seizing his heart. His mind tried to comprehend what was happening, sweeping the last remnants of sleep. _It had to be just a dream, a nightmare,_ his mind shot as he tried to get his breath back.

"See you tonight, buddy," replied his dad as he patted his son's shoulder with a gentle hand and was ready to leave.

"No..." His words escaped his mouth, and Pete crossed the puzzled look of his father as he stopped turning toward his son. Frozen Pete stared at him in dread. "You..." he started, his voice trembling as he tried to gather the words; the important words he had to tell him. "Don't..." his voice trailed off, the big knot in his throat making impossible for any sound to come out.

"Hey," cut his father, seeing the strange look in his son's eyes. "You be good with your mother, okay?"

Pete bit his lower lip. His heart was about to explode in his chest. Had he dreamed all that? What should he say to his dad? What if the things he was telling him were provoking a chain of events that would make his nightmare real? And then a word came out from nowhere. "-Kay," he heard his muffled voice and felt ashamed for being so unable to tell the truth. No, he was definitely not okay. How could he tell his dad he had the nagging feeling that he was going to die today? It was already too crazy that he could see ghosts, but seeing the future now? No, that wasn't possible. He looked up at his dad. Cold blades spiked through his veins, at the thought that maybe it was the last time he was seeing his dad alive. His mind wanted to scream, to yell his fear. But he didn't. _No! That couldn't be real! _He was really becoming nuts.

He watched in pain as his old man jumped in his truck and the car disappeared at the corner of the street a few minutes later. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the world pressing heavily on his shoulders. He wasn't sure what to think, or do, but then he felt it again. A surge of fear nestled in the pit of his gut, twisting and turning madly. Somewhere deep inside his memory he knew what it was. _But it can't be!_ His mind roared in anger as he slammed the door shut. _Never! It can't be happening again!_

Nestled in a corner, Myka observed her friend, dealing with his vibes for the first time. She knew from what Pete had told her what he was going through at this very moment, even doubting his own intuition, _his vibes._ That had to be a terrible burden to bear for a twelve year old, feeling responsible for his father death. She sighed and their eyes connected for a brief moment. No word was exchanged, only a deafening silence lingered between them. Through the glassy obsidian veil now observing her, she wondered which Pete was looking at her; if he was the scared kid of losing hid dad, or her tough, reassuring partner? Could she bring him back now? Was he remembering her?

She sighed, somewhere deep inside the dark opals staring back at her was her friend, the man she easily trust with her life. Was he understanding that all of this was just an illusion? That a dark, evil web was sewed around him to make him suffer more and more? That he was trapped because of an artifact? And that he had to escape from this in order to be safe? She sighed. He probably had no idea she had come for him. That she was real and... But she stopped short her trails of thoughts as a dark light flashed into his eyes.

Then, everything around her disappeared in a big maelstrom of color and squeezed images. _Not again! _Things spun around her, before the whole world stood still abruptly, as if the car she would have been in, had been stopped dead by a stoned millennium wall. She crumbled to her knees, catching her breath, her head aching. What the hell had just happened again? She looked around and realized she was standing in front of Pete's house again. It was broad daylight and the birds were humming unknowing of the distorted reality she was back in. She frowned, feeling she had seen that before. _Why am I here now?_

The door opened and Pete's father exited, going for his truck. He tossed his bag inside. _What?_ She frowned. She had a strange feeling of déjà vu. Pete's father whistled and as her friend rushed up to his dad, his face covered in mud. Her stomach tightened at the tormenting scenario replayed. They were back to the day before. _But why?_ Stunned she looked around, half expecting to see her partner jumping out of a bush and yelling a big _surprise! You got punk'd! _But nothing happened, and the same sickening scene replayed before her eyes like the day before.

Finally the truck disappeared and Pete went inside the house, but this time she decided to talk to him directly. Whatever was going on, Pete had to realize quickly in what mess he was. The more she was delaying to wake him up, the more he was slipping inside that creepy, scary, twisted world. And according to Artie, Neverland fed itself from personal memories. So if he was right, which happened quite often with Artie, then this world was coming from Pete's memories. She shook her head, still confused. But why replay his past? Why not move on to something else? Or was it how Neverland liked to torture people, trapping them in their worst nightmare, living it again and again forever trapped.

Silently she slipped inside the bathroom in his room, and observed the little boy that would become her friend washing his face under the water. He was methodical and careful. She smiled, thinking about her own Pete doing the same thing but much older. Her cheeks softly blushed at the image conveyed with a bare chest Pete at the BnB. She took a small breath, her lips tight. Okay, obviously she shouldn't think about him this way. _Not here, not now, never,_ her mind scolded.

"I know you can see me, Pete," she began, hoping to get an answer from him. But instead, he turned and grabbed a towel, ignoring her.

_She's not real,_ his mind shot. _Don't look at her! _Pete swallowed as he rubbed his face with the towel, trying vainly to ignore the apparition that seemed to stick to him like glue.

Drops of water dripped to his bare chest and he didn't seem to notice as he slipped into a white t-shirt. "Pete? You have to realize that this..." she said pointing at the bathroom and everything around. "… this isn't real. It's all an illusion, and I came for..." her voice trailed off as he turned toward her with a somber glare. She had never seen him angry, aside the spine event, and it surprised her to see the fierce rage burning in his eyes and directed toward her.

How could that ghost bother him that much? "I don't need you. Go away!" he said firmly. He sighed inwardly. _Damn it! Why is she back?_ _Can't she leave me alone for God's sake?_ He tossed the towel in the sink and slammed the door behind him. But it was all for nothing as he found himself facing her again in his room. _Geeez!_ Those ghosts were too unnerving, what was with the word _leave me alone_ that they didn't understand?

Myka faced him, not ready to give up on him. He could yell and call her whatever names, she wasn't leaving him behind, period! "I'm here to help, Pete! Don't push me away, I..." but she couldn't finish as he cut her off, a glacial stare on her.

"I've always been alone!" He snapped, darting a pair of furious though sad eyes toward her. "Why should that change because of a ghost?" little Pete said in his muffled pillow, trying desperately to muffle the world out.

His cold answer took her aback. What did he mean by _always be alone? _She was about to answer when a shadow appeared near the bed, Pete's shadow. But this time it was her friend as she had always known him. He looked at her, his face was close and unreadable. A cold chill ran down her spine. It was Pete, her Pete, that she was sure of, but his eyes. _Oh God_, his eyes, his dark pools that had so many times reassured her with his cocky smile, all his joy had vanished. It was as if someone had extinguished the very flame that inhabited him, and poured instead a load of unbearable, tormenting pain. Her heart shattered instantly. It couldn't be the same Pete, the same joyful and vivid man she had worked with. _No_, her mind whispered in a cold hissing pain. _Pete, my God, what happened to you? _

"Go away, Myka. Leave me alone," his voice whispered, half broken, as if he was murmuring his last words.

Frozen at the apparition, it took her a minute before she found her voice again, stuttering a little. But it was too late, Pete was gone again. She clenched her fists in frustration. "Pete?" Hot tears slowly burned her eyes. And before she knew it, the world spun again around her, going a darker shade of grey and black, the light slowly crushed from the dark shadows surrounding her. "Pete? What's going on? Pete?"

"Myka? Myka?" a voice called her as someone was gently slapping her cheeks. She blinked, wondering who the hell was slapping her. "Hey? You're awake? Myka?" repeated the voice filled with even more anxiety.

"Wh-... What...?" she mumbled as her eyes slowly opened on a familiar, round face. "Artie? What are you doing here? I was with Pete and..." Her voice lowered as she felt the blankets around her. It was the first time she was really feeling something real. _Oh god, I'm back._ In dread she raised an anxious look toward Artie. "Pete?" she asked, her heart beating fast.

Her friend offered her a sad pout, unable to announce her that she had failed. "I'm sorry, Myka," dropped Artie with a grim look.

"No, Pete," her small voice uttered. With sadness, she turned on her side, and noticed her sleeping partner very still. Pete's dark, mussed hair was spiking from the fluffy pillow his head had sunk in, as if in a last attempt of being cocky even facing death. She swallowed, trying to ease the tormenting pain burning at the pit of her stomach. His eyes were still too damn closed. For a minute, she just stared at him, unable to focus on anything else, hoping he was going to open his eyes, that once again it was a mistake; she hadn't come back without him. It wasn't possible. _No!_ Her fingers trembled when they touched his cold forehead, the hard truth hitting her like a freezing shower.

Her lips tight, she watched his chest rise slowly, his breathing even, but the pale color of his skin contrasted cruelly with the bruises that matted his jaw. They were the undeniable proof that all of this was real. Her heart tore inside. She was back! She was back without Pete._ Oh God!_

_**...TBC

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**A/N:** Well hopefully you're still in with tthis story, so feel free to leave me your thoughts and comments on this. Thanks to all for the reading, have a great weekend guys!


	5. Pete

**Chapter 5:** Pete

**A/N****:** Well again, thanks for all your reviews and favs. AM since you were not logged, I couldn't answer to you but thanks for the support, greatly appreciated.

And again, thanks to Kjay99 for the beta.

**Summary:** Set few months after Reset. Myka has left the W13. Now she receives news from Warehouse 13 as a friend is in need. Pete Myka

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, besides the characters I created for this story. Warehouse 13 belongs to the SYFY channel, and Neverland to John Barry.

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"Artie? You..." Myka's voice strangled in her throat at the view of her partner still unconscious. "What... what happened, Artie?" she asked as she propped her body up on her elbows.

His friend shook his head sadly and slumped back wearily in a chair behind him. He sighed deeply, one hand brushing lazily his dark salty hair. "I'm sorry, Myka, but ..." He tightened his lips a second not sure how to tell her the hard truth. "I guess the correct answer is you failed." He offered her a sad look.

"I what?" She glared at him before looking down at Pete paler than ever. "That's... that's... I just left him, Artie." She took a deep breath. "I saw him, Artie."

"Maybe, but the truth is he rejected you too. It's over, Myka."

Her eyes went to Artie and Pete quickly, her brain going a hundred miles an hour. She couldn't have failed Pete. There had to be a solution. "Then, I just have to go back." She frowned staring at her swollen finger where the ring had been. "Where is the ring, Artie?" Her voice rose anxiously at the view of the small bruise.

Artie looked at her, his eyes wide and his hand rubbing his mouth and rough beard. "You can't go back, Myka."

"Yeah?" She replied dryly. "Just watch me! Now gimme the damn ring, Artie!" She extended her left hand, her right hand, she had to admit, hurt where the ring had been.

"Can't do that, Myka." Artie stood up, stuffing the small box in his pocket and heading to the door. "I promised Pete I wouldn't let you do anything foolish." He sighed. "Going to Neverland was a bad idea in the first place. It was foolish. But I won't make the same mistake twice."

"What mistake, Artie? I saw Pete and he recognized me." Her voice rose to a high pitch tune. "Gimme the ring!"

Myka jumped from the bed to stand next to him. He turned to face her. Her cold glare was enough to send chills down his spine. He knew damn well that the agent mastered martial arts, and if she had to she would use it. He just hoped she wasn't that desperate. He winced inwardly, though having your partner lost in another world and on the threshold of dying could call for desperate measures.

"I'm not giving you that ring, Myka. You can't use it anyway. You..." He clenched his jaw, and gave her a sideway glance.

"Artie? I need it to go back and help Pete. I know I can bring him back. So just give it to me, alright?" Her face creased as she noticed Artie's dreadful look. "Artie?" Her stomach churned inside nervously.

"Myka, you don't understand. You can only use the ring once." His sad gaze went to Pete's pale face. "I'm sorry, Pete. But we all tried. Only you can save yourself now." He turned to the door, but Myka's firm grip on his shoulder stopped him.

"What? That's it! You're giving up on him? Just like that!" she voiced angrily. There was no way _she_ was letting Pete go without a fight.

He turned a determine look toward her. "There's nothing more we can do beside getting him comfortable for... for..." his voice trailed off as he tightened his lips in remorse.

"There's always something, Artie! So give me the ring!" She stood before him, her palm up. "C'mon! It's Pete we're talking about. He's able to touch every artifact and still survive against all odds. You saw him." She clenched her jaw in pain. "The spine should have killed him, but he survived. He dealt with the bottle and a loss of a father. He can survive to this too. But I need the damn ring!" She stared at Artie, her glare determined to resume her mission: saving Pete.

Artie observed her a moment, biting his lower lip as if he was deciding the best course of action.

"I'll go back and I will bring him back this time," she added, seeing Artie wasn't arguing as much. But his answer surprised her.

"You can't!" he voiced aloud, pacing nervously the room and raising his arms as if sweeping any invisible force in his way. "Your soul has already been inside those spheres of time and space. It's too dangerous! If you go back, you could be lost and..."

"Could," cut Myka with a firm look, her hands now on her hips. "That's the word, Artie: _could_."

"Dammit! You don't understand! Pete rejected you, like all of us." He yelled, turning toward the window. His hand rubbed his beard nervously. He watched in a dark mood the sun outside slowly rising, its orange rays slowly bathing the room. "He doesn't want you around, Myka," continued Artie, his tone soften this time. "It means he gave up. There's nobody to save anymore. Pete is too deep in Neverland..." his voice trailed off as he looked at his fingers, glaring at them as if they were the cause of all the troubles. Slowly, he massaged his middle finger of his left hand where Jung's ring had been a few days ago. "Even if you could go back," he whispered, staring at the sunrise outside. "Even if you do... he won't let you come close now, Myka. It's just..."

She frowned. "Why? He's my partner and..."

"He's not, Damnit!" struck harshly Artie. He turned toward her, his eyes daring her to say otherwise. "You left him!" he finally blurted out. "He has every right to think you're an illusion, or some kind of repressed desire in his mind. There is no way for him to be sure of who you are inside Neverland." He sighed, looking down and his hand rubbing his face realizing he had said too much, probably hurting Myka in the process. The whole situation was pressing on each of them, and a slip of the tongue was hard to avoid, though he wasn't the one who had suffered the most from her departure. "I'm sorry," he apologized, raising a pair of sad eyes.

His words had stabbed her in the heart. In desperation her mind clinged to them, trying to make some senses. "Repressed desire?" She frowned.

He sighed loudly, avoiding her question. That was between Pete and her, he couldn't tell her if she had no idea of what he was talking about. "He didn't let in any of us for more than a few seconds," he finally admitted with a softer voice, and his brows furrowed.

She bit her lower lip. Her heart was beating fast inside. What had he meant by repressed desire? _C'mon, Artie! Why are you avoiding my question? You think I'm guilty. That all this is my fault?_ But it was the truth, she had left, and she had enough guilt with her for the day. If she hadn't left maybe Pete would have been all right and … she took a long breath. True or not, she had no time to think about her guilt. She had created more trouble when she was with the team and had proven with H.G. that she wasn't fit for this job. So no, she had been right to leave but still, if Pete... Her heart squeezed in her chest at the image of the little kid crying in his room, alone. No she had to go back and help him. She couldn't bear to leave him there in pain, tormented forever because she hadn't had his back. She closed her eyes. Even if Artie was right, she had the feeling Pete had let her in for more time than any of them, this could be her chance.

"How long was I in?" she suddenly asked, her mind focused on the task ahead.

He frowned, a bit confused by her question and his voice unsure. "What? Huh? An hour or so, why?"

"And you?" she retorted.

He sighed. "That's not the point!" he snapped back, knowing what she was trying to do. Of course she had remained in Pete's dream more than an hour. Unlike he, Leena and Claudia who had barely stayed there for a couple of minutes altogether. No, it was obvious Pete had let Myka in. But it was too dangerous to send her in a second time. The consequences on her psyche and her soul would be too devastating. She could... He stared at her. No, he couldn't sacrifice her to get Pete back. His hand squeezed the little box in his pocket, keeping Jung's ring close.

"You can't go back, I'm sorry," he stated, heading to the door.

Stunned by Artie's determined gait, Myka remained rooted on her spot, blocking his way out, her left arm across the door. "No, Artie! I'm going back!" She locked her darting emeralds with him. "It's my decision. I'm not a warehouse agent anymore I don't follow your orders. You can either let me do it or assist me, but either way I'm going back and I will bring Pete back."

"Myka," insisted Artie, as his hand set on her arm blocking his way. He gently squeezed it. "I can't let you do that." His voice was soft and he was talking to her as he used to when he wanted to be nice. "I..." He frowned. "Pete made his choice clear when he learned that he was affected by that artifact. He asked us..." He sighed. "He doesn't want any of us to get hurt unnecessarily, and he was coherent at the time when he asked me that favor," he finished his eyes connecting with her with sadness. "You have to honor his last wishes."

"Screw his last wishes! I'm going and that's final!" She opened her right hand. "I need the ring, Artie." she demanded. She wasn't ready to argue anymore, she had lost enough time already, Pete's time.

Artie sighed, giving up, and pulled the small golden box from his pocket, knowing damn well, that Myka could kick his ass in a few seconds to get the ring. She would then, slip the ring to her finger and bye bye Myka. He would have to get the pieces together after that. He sighed, regretting he hadn't taken his bag with him. His brows knitted as he laid the small box in her palm. "Fine, but don't do it right away, please."

"Artie, Pete is getting too weak and I..." she began before her voice trailed off as he raised his hand.

"I know how Pete is, Myka." He closed his eyes. Oh god, he was so going to regret it. But Myka would have had the upper hand over him in no time, so he should better comply and try to lower the damages as much as possible. "You need to rest, at least for a couple of hours," he added quickly seeing her face wrinkling in denial. "Or you will both be lost. So if you want to have a chance, and I mean it, a real chance to bring him back after all you did. Then, let Leena help you to train mentally for staying there longer." He let out a big sigh. "I have no idea if it will work, but at least, you'll both have a better chance this way."

Myka stared at him a moment. She wanted to go back right now, though she had to admit, she felt a bit weary, and their argument hadn't helped. She sighed, her lips tight. "Just a couple of hours. After that I go to get him back," she agreed.

"Yes, yes," he repeated. "What exactly did you see there?" He asked a bit curious as they exited the room. She could have gathered some information to help Pete.

She bit her lower lip, wondering for a minute if it was okay to reveal what she had seen from Pete's past. "I think I saw part of his past when he was a kid."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Was it a good, happy moment or a sad one?"

"Why do you ask?"

"If it was a good one, then it means you'll find him there again." His voice lowered suddenly, and his sight change to become grim. "But if it was a bad one, then, it's gonna be hard to find a way in."

She offered him a puzzled look. How could she tell him that Pete's memory was different than that? There were pieces of good moments though, and really sad one too.

His face wrinkled and he quickly pushed his glasses back on his nose. "What?" His gut twitched slightly inside, knowing he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

She looked down, taking a serious look. "Well, you know, it's Pete." She paused. "I mean, things are complicated with him anyway." She offered a genuine smile to her friend. "You know him. He never does things like anybody else."

"What do you mean, Myka?" His tension increased with the beat of his heart.

"Ah, you know..." she hesitated. "Good, bad, why do you want him to choose when he can have both, and multiplied them?"

"Both?" Artie raised his brows.

She sighed deeply. "At first it was a happy memory but there was a lot of sadness too, and when..." she stopped, realizing she was saying too much about Pete's past.

Artie cracked a small smile. "Don't worry Myka, I know more than you think about Pete. It's okay, but if you don't want to tell me it's fine. The important is to pinpoint why he rejected you when he did, and not right away."

"Ah, I might have an idea about that too..." she said, her voice trailing off and her brows rose in a guilty pout.

Artie stared at her waiting, obviously she thought it was her fault.

She frowned. "Well... huh, I followed Pete for a day when he was a kid and then, as a new day began, it changed back to the day before. So I kinda went to talk to him about that." She tightened her lips, her face pleading guilty. "I meant to help him remember."

She sighed, and Artie shook his head. He glanced behind him and leaned against the wall, feeling suddenly the need for support.

"He shouted that he didn't need me and that he wanted me to leave," continued Myka, obviously hurt of being rejected by Pete.

Artie froze at her words. He had expected Myka to tell him she had attracted a shadow or something dangerous that would have triggered Pete's instinct to protect her. But at her words, a weak smile of victory appeared at the corner of his lips.

Myka reacted almost instantly, seeing her former boss showing signs of a solution. "Artie, what...?"

"It's good Myka. It means Pete let you be with him for a while, and that only when you threatened his own peace that he rejected you. Not before."

"Yes, but how does that help me to get him out?" She frowned. She obviously had missed an element to understand the situation. She sighed, frustrated that her own judgement was so clouded right now. She clearly couldn't deny that Pete dying was affecting her.

"Two things: one he recognized you as a friend and never consider you hostile, which is better than any of us have done until now, even though he decided to reject you at the end. And two he shared his past with you. It means he still trust you."

She shook her head. "I'm not sure he still does. He asked me to leave when he realized I was there."

"Maybe." He frowned. "Maybe it was his subconscious, but not the real Pete. His unconscious has still the memory of your friendship and so we can work on that to bring him back." He offered her a small smile. "Go into your room and sleep for an hour," he ordered gently. "I'll have Leena come over and she'll teach you a mental technique to resist to the shadows." He bit his lower lip. "This is going to be very dangerous this time. I have no idea if it will work out, but we might have enough information to build a solid plan of attack against Neverland and claim Pete back."

She nodded, hoping he was right.

_**xxx**_

He looked up from the pillow and saw with misery that he was alone. The ghost that had been following him all day was gone. Pete frowned, his hand sweeping away the fresh tears still burning his reddened cheeks. Although he was happy he had gotten rid of it, something inside his gut was churning madly, and he couldn't explain why. All day, even when she wasn't talking he had felt drawn to her as if they knew each other. But that was crazy, he didn't know any grown up beside the friends of his dad and his mother's boss. He sighed, deciding, that now was a good time for some piano practice, at least he wouldn't feel so alone.

He was in the main room in no time and behind the piano with a small grin on his face quickly shoving away his dark mood. Music was part of his life. He loved it. His little fingers started to play on the keys again, and the music filled the room, soothing his mind. He had chosen a melodious song but somehow today it sounded moody and sad. He stopped, his lips tight as he looked around. Yes he was alone, as much alone as one can be in a deserted house, with no one to talk to. He sighed. This hadn't changed since he had learned to walk and talk. His mother was always working, his dad was always saving people he would probably never meet, and his sister, well, she was in a specialized school all day, so it was hard to see her too. Whatever time of the year it was, he was alone. When it was school time he could always stay with his friends, but this summer they were all away with their folks.

His head low, he swallowed the hard knot of solitude in his throat. No wonder he imagined ghosts to get company sometimes. He sighed. He really was crazy. With a somber mood, he resumed the song but his heart wasn't there.

The walls around him started to change, fading slowly into a dark cloudy mist. Too engross in his own brooding pain, he didn't notice it right away until the whole room was so dark that he could barely see his fingers flying over the keyboard.

"What the heck is that?"

He looked around. The main room and the piano had disappeared, leaving only the bench where he was sitting. Muffled voices soared from all around him. His heart skipped in his chest. _That's creepy. _"Who's there?" His voice echoed in the dark place, strangled by fear. His sister wasn't due back home for a couple of hours. So yeah, he was really alone. If there was trouble then nobody was there to help him. He cursed and quickly stood up. Maybe if he went to his room this dark mist surrounding him would disappear just like the ghost?

His throat tight, he wadded through the dark fog, his heart pounding madly when the thick mist ensnared his waist. With relief, he spotted the faint glowing light of the corridor reflected on the metal railing from the staircase right in front of him. That was his luck. Without waiting, he rushed upstairs and quickly closed the door behind him. His heart was beating madly in his throat. Leaning against the door, he breathed heavily. He had never seen something like that. Never. Was it because of this new ghost? Was she mad at him? Or trying to get back at him this way? He wanted to cry but his pride and his mind knew it wasn't going to change his situation. _It's just my imagination,_ his mind comforted.

_You're all alone, _giggled the voices behind the door, scrapping the wood.

_Now that was totally freaking creepy!_ He could hear the voices in his head. His stomach tightened in nausea as something scraped the door noisily. The eerie grating increased, vibrating through the wood and reverberating to his back. Cold sweat dripped along his skin and to his neck. His scared mind quickly flashed images of long sharp claws, tearing the wood open behind him.

"Not good," he winced with a small voice. _Don't panic, Pete! Don't panic! Breathe! Just breathe!_ He closed his eyes, trying to focus his mind on happy images of his family at their last outing. This had to be his freaky imagination again. That couldn't be real.

_So alone, _repeated the voices with a sick laugh.

"Go away!" he screamed. "Go away, or I'll call my dad and he's gonna kick your ass!" he shouted between clenched teeth.

_Your dad? That is so sweet, lover boy, _said one voice softly echoing from behind the door, but the tone made him sick.

His heart raced in his chest as he tried to get his breathing under control. _Can't be, can't be,_ he repeated inwardly, his eyes squeezed shut to stop that nightmare from invading his mind.

_Doesn't remember_, whispered another voice with great satisfaction.

_Maybe we should get him now that he's in this form,_ suggested another with a hint of hesitation.

Pete froze at the words._ Get him? What the hell did they mean? This form?_

_Really not remembering,_ added with joy a voice, talking directly to Pete.

He looked everywhere in his room, wishing with all his heart he had a radio or something to call his dad. Really, he needed it, right now. But as his heart kept pounding madly in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he realized no one would come. No one. He was alone, so damn alone. He clenched his jaw, his fists tightened to his sides. _As always,_ his mind whispered with a slight wince of regret. He could feel his fear slowly seeping under his skin like a mad chill and squeezing his heart, freezing all his being. He had to do something, anything. He almost screamed when he watched in terror the dark cloud sipping through the bottom of the door, and spreading around his ankles. _Oh God. _He leaped to his bed, and watched in panic as the room slowly filled with the black, smoky mist. _That is so not good!_

"That's not real," he whispered, praying to wake up. "I'm not really here," he muffled, his lips crooked into a fake trembling smile. _All that is just a bunch of crap created by my too wild imagination._

He looked down to his hands, feeling his tight stomach about to give up his breakfast. Then, they seemed to grow slightly and appeared stronger and bigger, like his dad's. He frowned as an old thought tried to pierce its way through the thick layers ensnaring his mind. There was something important about those hands. Then, his point of view too had changed as if he was much taller now. His vision was weird. He could see his new grown up hands gripping a black gun. He stared at the weapon, freezing for a second. He wondered how the hell he was going to explain that to his parents. But the gun suddenly changed into a kind of toy, the same one he had seen in the Flash Gordon movie. He frowned.

_Not good,_ whispered the shadows formed now before him.

"What?" He looked up in time to see the black cloud spread around him, and heading his way. As if it had always been natural for him, he raised the toy gun and aimed it at the black fog. He felt suddenly stronger and more confident.

As if afraid by his new stance, the voices emitted a high pitched shriek. It slowly increased to the level it hurt his ears. Covering them, Pete half crouched on his bed, the gun forgotten, his now adult face torn in wrenching winces.

_He still has some strength. Too soon to take him, _suggested a voice.

_You think the girl helped him remember? _Asked one of the voices with hesitation.

_Maybe... _blurted out one. _But she's gone now. He's all alone. He won't hold on that long._

_Let's have him remained drowned in his fears, then we can come back to digest his soul and take our time, an infinite time,_ the voices giggled in unison.

_I like souls!_ chuckled another small voice that had suddenly joined them.

_My turn to get a piece of juicy fresh soul,_ growled another voice. The sound in Pete's ears increased to the level he could barely stand on his knees.

_He did fine rejecting his past,_ the voice snorted. _He's quickly leaving his world behind._ The voice growled in pleasure. _These entities are so blind when they're alone._

_So blind,_ repeated another one with a dark laugh.

Pete leaned forward on the bed as the high pitched sound increased. Although his vision blurred from the sound pounding into his ears, he couldn't stop it from entering his mind. He could see part of his arms now. His T-shirt was black and he felt different than when he woke up this morning, stronger. His pants were different too. They were the green color like the military people he had seen at school. Panting, the sound increased and the room disappeared in a fog as he finally crumbled on the bed in a tearing pain. His body was on fire. He curled up trying to find a way to breathe and soothe his pain. But everything was dark and painful, the whole world was shuting down around him.

"Where am I?" his mind tried wearily to understand as his body gave up from exhaustion.

_Almost ours,_ stated confidently a voice over his panting body.

"Somebody..." he mumbled, his voice strangled by his painful breathing. "Some-... help... need..."

_**xxx**_

Myka paced nervously the corridor. Two hours had passed since she had left Pete alone in this freakin' crazy world called Neverland. And so far, she had barely close her eyes an hour, unable to get her mind off her dying partner in the room next door. She had a crash course with Leena on how to manage a shadow's stare. She sighed. _Whatever a shadow's stare is._ She wasn't really sure. She shook her head. She was waiting in front of Pete's door for Artie. Nervously, her fingers played with the little box in her pocket. She had kept Jung's ring with her just in case Artie changed his mind. After all it was her only ticket to get Pete out of this horrific world of Groundhog's day, though this one was far more moody.

"Where the hell is he?" she repeated for the hundredth time as Leena arrived beside her.

"He said he was going to be there, and he will," comforted Leena.

Myka shook her head. "I can't wait any longer." She let out a deep sigh and turned the handle to enter but Leena's hand on her arm stopped her. "Leena?"

"You used to listen to him," stated gently her friend.

Myka stared at her, anger slowly smoldering behind her emeralds toward the friend who prevented her from helping her partner. "That's right! I used to," she lashed out, surprising herself for being so harsh. "And now I don't have to follow his orders." She shook her head, her lips tight as the image of an ashen Pete wrapped in all these thick blankets printed before her. "Pete is dying, and he has been for a week now. So if instead of waiting you had called before... before..." she swallowed the hard knot in her throat. "You guys should have called me much sooner. We wouldn't have had to rush to save Pete and maybe he would be..."

"He would what?" cut Leena, not really taking offense at Myka's harsh answer. She could understand her friend but not her way to reason. She had after all left the team, left Pete. Each action had a consequence, and she knew that Myka was well aware of that. "It was Pete's wishes, Myka," said softly Leena.

Myka shook her head in denial of what Pete had decided. "Yeah, Artie gave me that one already. But you should have overruled him. He obviously couldn't be sane." She nervously brushed the curls that had fallen in her face.

Leena frowned. "He was more than sane, Myka." She sighed. "I was there," she stated with a firm voice. "He made all of us swear that we wouldn't call you, whatever happened to him."

"But that's just crazy, Leena!" voiced out Myka, anger and pain smoldering in her voice, and flashing through her blazing eyes. "Look at his state! Damnit! Look how he's out of our reach now!" She clenched her fists. No, it had been a bad decision, the same kind that had made her leave. "Why would he do that? Does he hate me that much?"

Leena smirked. "No, I think he loves you _that much_."

A long silence lingered between both women as Myka stared at her friend, her words stuck in her throat.

"From what Pete had told me before he was ill," continued softly Leena. "He thought you were happy at D.C., and I guess he didn't want you to feel obligated to him."

"Obligated? He saved my life for Christ's sake!" she blurted out in the corridor. "Of course I'm entitled to help if he needs me, and..." she frowned, tightening her lips. "But I don't feel obligated to be here. I mean... he was my partner. Even if it's not the case now..." Her sight lost its view at the carpet at the floor. "You don't stop being a partner. That's why I'm here."

"Well that's what he wanted to avoid. And you know how dear is a promise for all of us." Leena let out a deep sigh. "Listen, it wasn't easy to agree with him, neither was making the decision to call you and go against his will. Artie..." She frowned. "It was even harder for Artie. He thinks you left because he didn't deal with H.G the right way."

Myka's eyes widened at the confession. "What? I didn't! It was all about me. I failed you guys and you couldn't count on me anymore, I..."

Leena shook her head. "It's alright, you left quickly. But I think everyone had to make up their own mind, and I think Pete..."

"Sorry, I'm late," Claudia's voice interrupted them from the stairs.

"Late? For what?" asked Myka incredulously. "Claudia? Where is Artie?"

"Huh, he's bringing the rest of the stuff from the trunk," stated Claudia as she put her brownish box on the floor.

"What is this thing?" Myka pointed at the box and the wires protruding from it.

"Ah, that's something I have been working on-"

"-the last three days," growled Artie as he arrived next to her, his arms filled with metallic tools. "As usual, Claudia worked on something without my approval." He underlined with a patronizing tone. He sighed, wiping out the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. "But this time I'm not going to say anything about that," he finished, his lips tight with a small smirk.

Myka frowned. "Well, okay, but I have to go help Pete now Artie."

"One second, Myka," he cut.

She sighed. "No, I have to go now. You're late and..."

"Sorry was my fault," interrupted Claudia, as she offered a guilty pout. "I found that cheesy stuff in the scarecrow alley and thought it might enhance the broadcast and..."

Myka closed her eyes, her patience wearing off quickly. "Claudia! Is this going to help Pete?" She finally let out with a little too much anxiety smoldering in her voice.

"Ah, yeah, sorta." Claudia raised her brows with a candid air.

"You have to be..." started Myka before she was cut by a tearing scream.

All of them stared at each other in dread and rushed inside Pete's room. This couldn't be good.

_**...TBC

* * *

**_

**A/N: **Well more action in the next chapter. Hope you liked that one and as always feel free to post a review, it makes my day & helps to reoriente the story. Have a great week, guys!


	6. Another lonely day

**Chapter ****6****:** Another lonely day

**A/N****:** Well again, thanks for all your reviews and fav. And also a big thanks to Kjay99 for the beta.

**Summary:** Set after Reset. Myka has left the Warehouse, but worrying news made her rush back for a friend in need. Pete/Myka, angsty romance dealing with Pete's past.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, besides the characters I created for this story. Warehouse 13 belongs to the SYFY channel, and Neverland to John Barry.

* * *

"Pete," called Myka, her voice dying as soon as she spotted Pete thrashing around.

Quickly, she jumped on the bed, pinning him down. His arms were moving aimlessly in the air, tugging at everything attached to them. Her heart broke at the view of his delirious state. His face was wrenched in a painful wince, and his rasp panting made her stomach twinge in pain. Twice, she avoided a back fist, which, considering his current state, she doubted would have really hurt. Her jaw clenched, she managed to prop herself over his restless body. Finally after managing a weary, sweaty Pete shifting in bed and slipping from her hands, he seemed to settle down for good, though his body trapped beneath her didn't offer much choice either. It was the only way she could prevent him from hurting himself. She looked around at the messy bed now covered with stains of fresh dark blood. In his fight, he had managed to tug on Chaudiac's eggs. She winced spotting the torn skin where the tip had been plugged.

"Artie," voiced Myka, her eyes narrowed in pain. "What's happening to him again?"

Artie sat wearily on the bed. With a puzzled frown he put a hand on Pete's forehead. It was damp and hot at the touch. _Too hot._ "His fever has increased. The shadows must be getting stronger." He let out a deep sigh. "He doesn't have much time." A grim look lingered in his eyes as they locked with Myka in sorrow. "Myka? Are you ready?"

She nodded and released her grip around Pete's limp arms. Her sight met Claudia's shocked expression. "I will bring him back, Claudia. I promise."

The young girl swallowed the knot in her throat. "You both need to come back." Her strangled voice echoed.

Myka nodded slowly, her lips tight. With all her heart she hoped she was right. Behind her, Artie's deep sigh reminded her that the travel she had decided to take wasn't going to be easy.

Carefully, Claudia brought her new invention near the bed. In deep silence, she focused her attention on the things she had to set in order for the artifact to work. It was too painful to stay and look at Pete. His pale, grey face reminded her too much of those haunting faces she had seen quickly fading away in the psych ward.

Myka noted Claudia's stiff way motion as she installed her things in the middle of the room. "How is it going to work?" she asked trying to ease the situation. She could see how hard it was for Claudia to cope with all this : Pete at the threshold of death; Artie losing hope. It was just too much for the young techie to bear. And if now she was losing her mojo too, the team power be greatly diminished to save Pete. She sighed. She could understand why Claudia felt so bad right. Life hadn't been easy on the young woman, and as someone who had lost her brother when she was little, Claudia was deeply attached to each member of the team. Somehow Pete had become like a second brother to her too. Now reliving the deep pain of losing a brother would probably kill her.

"Huh?" answered the young techie her mind still foggy after seeing Pete wrestling wearily with Myka. She pointed at the large bowl that she was filling with water, trying desperately to keep her mind busy and focus on the task ahead: Myka and Pete needed her. "Well this will help us see you if you or Pete gets in trouble." She frowned. "It's like a distress call. Every time you will consciously think about coming home..." her voice trailed off. "... or whatever home you'll imagine," she quickly added, feeling now uncomfortable for having raised that subject when Myka had voluntarily left the team, obviously not considering them as her family or her home.

Claudia glanced at Artie, hoping he would rescue her from the big crappy subject she had put herself into. But her mentor was busy wrapping Pete's new wounds. She took a deep breath and her eyes met Myka's, a look of concern set on her. "Uh..? An image will appear in this bowl." She pointed at the center of the bowl. "A picture is formed if you think about someone strong enough. So you will just have to think about going home or Artie or me, and we'll know it's time to pull you out."

"But how? I mean, Artie said the ring won't let me come back a second time, because I might be too engrossed in Neverland."

"Ah, we're still working on that saving part stuff," admitted Claudia with a weak voice.

Artie sighed. "That's why I told you it was too risky to go back. Even if you are able to reach Pete, you may not be able to escape Neverland's realms by yourself."

Myka huffed gently. "Well I trust you guys will find a solution before that." She looked back at Pete unmoving his ashen, sweaty face. His eyes were closed, and his wounded body buried under layers of blankets to keep him warm. She couldn't abandon him. If the roles were reversed she knew he would do the same. And if she was true with herself, she had to admit, she didn't know what she would do if she was losing him too. Life had been hard enough on her. With Sam gone, losing Pete would be too much to bear. She couldn't lose another partner. Even if they weren't working together anymore she was still addicted to his funny calls and his joyful jokes that made her laugh. She sighed. _I'm coming Pete._ "I'm ready, Artie."

The older man looked at her with a mix of sadness and understanding. "We'll find a way to bring you back, Myka... and remember, you got to find the key to his heart." His eyes locked with hers. "If he let you in with his feelings before then it means it's the thread you were looking for. So grab it and you'll be able to bring him back."

She nodded slowly. "I will Artie. This time Pete's coming back with me." Slowly she lay down near Pete, but this time, before wearing the ring, she turned to him and gently grabbed his left hand from under the covers. It was cold, and the bandage around his palm was rough to the touch. Her lips tight, she squeezed it gently, and stared at Pete's pale face. _This time we're both getting out._ She offered her left hand to Artie. Swallowing hard, Artie slid the ring around her middle finger. This time she didn't even feel her hand falling and touching the blanket as her mind was already gone.

Artie glanced at Claudia frozen near the bed.

"What if we don't find the way to...?" her voice trailed off, her eyes locked on both silhouettes now asleep on the bed. Lying down were her two best friends. The ones that she called family.

Artie sighed. He couldn't lie to her. "Then both will be lost in Neverland," he confessed in dread. His hand brushed back his salty hair as if to wake him up from this nightmare and set him into action. "Let's not think about that right now."

Claudia raised a gaze filled with tears to him and he couldn't resist anymore. He took a step and pulled her into a warm hug. His lips tight, he kept her close. This wasn't the time for any of them to break.

Claudia knew the situation had to be really screwed up for Artie to show his heart this way. But for a moment, she refused to think about how bad things were. She appreciated the hug for what it was. She deepened her face into the crook of his shoulder. It appeared that for the first time in her life, she had a friend, some kind of dad that she would be happy to call that way one day, but someone to be with her as things were crumbling around her.

Artie sighed as his hand gently pressed on the back of her head. "Together they're the best agents in the Warehouse history, Claudia. I'm sure this time they'll find a way to get out together. We have to believe that, kiddo." Slowly he broke their embrace and his large hands gently went to her cheeks. "We have to trust Myka to find him, and that Pete will have enough strength and will to live and come back to us." He locked his gentle stare with hers.

With a deep sniff, Claudia nodded, her green strand falling before her face and over his fingers.

He smiled as he put back the rebel strand behind her ear. "C'mon, show me how to plug your stuff on Myka and Pete and then, we are going to see how we can help them to make it back when they're ready, okay?"

"Okay?" Her voice was low, but strong enough for Artie to notice that she was taking on herself to fight her fears.

"Soon we'll get everyone back. I promise you."

Claudia wiped her tears with the back of her hand and pointed at her invention. "Let me show you."

_**xxx **_

Like the last time, Myka felt the cold darkness surrounding her, ensnaring her and probing her like a wild animal. But now she knew what to do, and had no time to spare with these things. Quickly, she focused her thoughts on Pete and finding him. Few seconds later, she was in a green field, bordering a dense forest. The sun was shining over her and everything looked like a perfect morning in a perfect world. She tightened her lips. _If only._ Far away behind the field, she spotted a familiar house: Pete's house, though this time she had arrived by the backyard. A small sound close to her feet made her turn and looked down.

At the bottom of a huge pine tree, she discovered a small muddy hole. She let out a small sigh of comfort at the view. Little Pete was digging with some kind of tool, a greenish mud covering his clothes and smearing his face. He stopped as if he had heard something and his head popped out of the hole like a rabbit checking if the road was safe to go. She smiled at the dark hazel eyes sweeping the field before he looked up at the blue sky. It seemed he hadn't noticed her yet, obviously too engrossed in his current work. His hand covered in mud lazily rubbed at his sweaty forehead, adding more dirt to his face. He took off his Browns' cap and his little fingers brushed back his damp, messy hair. It was hot under the sun, and Myka could see he hadn't spared himself as his black dirty t-shirt was wet and cladding his small body. She smiled, even at twelve he looked cute, and when his father's voice echoed from the house and a boyish grin played on his mischievous lips, Myka knew she wouldn't have resisted to his charm if they had met as kid. Not that she had resisted a long time the first time she had met him. She frowned. _Nope_, obviously, he had always kept that charming smile with him.

Pete climbed off the hole, and quickly brushed his dirty hands on his muddy jeans. He grinned. Seeing his state, his mother was probably going to make him change before the end of the day but he didn't care. He had dug enough this time to find what he was looking for and his happiness wasn't going to disappear that fast. With a smile on his face he rushed back to the house not wanting to miss his father leaving for work. It was their tradition: his dad would always leave after they had both said bye. Still running, he reached the other side of the house and spotted his father near the truck. Quickly, he glanced to check if the woman from the other day was still there. But no they were alone this time. _At last!_

Happy she had found him quickly, Myka followed Pete from afar. She didn't want to scare him again and make him reject her like the last time. _No_. This time, she had to find the right approach to connect with him, and stay with him until both could go back to the real world. Before she had a chance to say a word or do anything, a dreadful image appeared before her: it was Pete, but older, this time. He was wearing a black T-shirt and his military slacks. For a brief flash, she thought she saw him lying on a dark ground, his arms and feet pulled away from his body. He was trapped there, unable to move. Then everything vanished. The sun reappeared over her and little Pete was standing before her. She was back in the main room as he was playing piano again. Obviously, she had missed the part when he had talked to his dad.

Careful not to push him too hard this time, she leaned against a wall in a corner and listened to the music. Although it was the same piece he had played the first time, she felt more sadness seeping through it. She frowned. It wasn't the song that had changed but mostly the way Pete was playing it. The rhythm and something else was different. Biting her lower lip she realized it was the soul in the music. She could literally feel Pete's pain pouring out from each note. _But why? Why was he coming back to this day again and again?_

Then the answer popped suddenly in her head. All the details she had noticed watching Pete playing and talking to his sister, the way he looked at his father, everything took shape in her mind to form the answer. She sighed. Unconsciously Pete knew where and when he was: the day he was going to lose his father... the day he hadn't listened to his vibes. _That's why he's repeating it again and again. He's trapped in his desire to tell the truth to his dad, but the past can't be changed. _She closed her eyes remembering their mission when they had taken over Rebecca and Jack's bodies. Just before they had lost consciousness, he had told her one thing she had never forgotten. "_Don't you see we have to try... Or we're not better..." _Pete had always believed that the future wasn't written, that he could change the past. She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. And now Neverland had given him the wicked opportunity to change it. _But why hadn't he tried until now? Why was he just reliving it then?_ She frowned. Maybe it was a sick game played by the shadows to use him up to the end. Maybe he was too worn down to change his past. Maybe he had already given up. _Oh please, Pete? You can't have yielded to them?_

Lost in her thoughts Myka didn't notice that the music had stopped. Opening her eyes, she met the determine stare of her friend through his young eyes. Twisted on his bench he was staring at her with all his might. A chill ran down her back at the intensity his gaze could muster when he was serious.

"Why did you come back?" his dark hazel nuts were locked with hers and she had a hard time to determine if he was mad at her.

"Because I'm your friend."

He smirked and stood up. Lazily his right hand brushed back his dark, spiky hair and she could see some resemblance with the older man she knew so well. Really he hadn't changed much by growing up. She smiled thinking that his mother had to be very proud of him.

"I have no friend," he whispered before leaving the room and a stunned Myka, her mouth agape.

_What? So he doesn't remember me?_ She tightened her lips, hoping it was his memory that was messed up and not the real Pete admitting they had never shared any kind of bond. Honestly, she could only deal with the former. Pete, her friend, her partner would have never deny her like that! _Never!_ How many times had he cheered her up since she had left the warehouse, always reminding her that she had a friend and a family to come back to if things got tough. She shook her head. Pete wasn't a liar. He hadn't said that without believing it, so it only meant one thing: he was really forgetting the warehouse and his friends. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the thought of Pete slowly slipping out of reach. It had been hard with the telegraph to see him being beyond her help, and now she was afraid it was happening again. "_Whatever the odds we have to try," _his voice echoed in her head as she remembered his words.

"Yes, Pete," she whispered, her throat tightened by her anxiety. "We have to."

_**xxx**_

"So, is it working?"

"You tell me, it's your creation, kiddo," replied Artie with a small smile.

Claudia frowned. "Well I thought the master will have a better point of view that just..._ You tell me!_" she said mirroring Artie's shrug, her eyes rolling up.

"Alright, alright." His eyes stared at the messy lines passing over Myka and Pete, and plugged partially into Chaudiac's eggs.

The Tibetain bowl was laid in the middle of the room and the only thing left to do was to fill it with clear water, then Claudia's invention should work. Quickly his eyes followed the circuit again, wondering if they hadn't forgotten something. Myka and Pete were both linked to the bowl, so in theory either of them wanting to escape Neverland could signal them with the bowl. This way he and Claudia would be able to see them in the water. Then, with Leena and her psychic ability, they would send them the memory of their body in the room. He frowned. In theory all this should work, Pete and Myka should be able to tune to that memory and be transported back here, but again they had never tested that. He looked back at Chaudiac's eggs. They should be strong enough to be the power source to send the feedback to Pete and Myka, transforming the whole thing into a giant living Farnsworth. He smiled inwardly. That was really clever from Claudia to have thought of that.

_**xxx**_

Pete grunted quietly as he sat on his bed. Hopeless, his hands ruffled in his hair as he let his body slouch back on the bed. The ghost was back. _Dammit!_ He sighed. He thought he was done with those weird things but obviously not. A knot formed in his throat wondering if this time he shouldn't tell the truth to his mother or his sister. Nobody knew he was seeing strange things sometimes. _Yeah right! As if I can tell that to anybody anyway._ He was weird enough with his desire to become an archeologist when all his family had stuck to what they called a _regular_ job.

He bit his lower lip, and let out a deep weary sigh. _Seeing ghost..._ his thoughts drifted back to his previous words. It was why he had taken the habit of circling around the cemetery when coming back from school. The kids at school had laughed at him when they had learned he was doing the big circle, but he knew better than to respond to their provocations. At least he knew why, he, more than anyone in this small town should avoid it. He had tried going through it a long time ago, and what he had seen had been enough to remove any desire to do it again. Although he had never been able to explain it, the ghostly apparition that had crossed his path that day had been scary enough to stick in his mind till this day. He crossed his hands behind his head and let out a deep breath. His sight lingered on the white ceiling.

A few years had passed since the cemetery and he had assumed that things were going to be all right. But if now he could see that lady, what did it mean? Though he had to admit she wasn't as scary as the old rotted thing he had first met. He smirked and shook his head, he was really crazy and a specialized school was waiting for him the next semester. He frowned, he better try to find a way to erase her image or just ignore her if he wanted to be okay and not get his mum scared. With his sister, his parents had enough to take care of. They didn't need their second kid to go Poltergeist on them.

Lost in his thoughts, Pete didn't notice right away that he wasn't alone anymore in his room. So when he stripped off his t-shirt in the intent to clean up following his mother recommendation, he almost gasped at the woman staring back at him with a mischievous smile.

"Geezzz!" he let out. "Can't you at least announce yourself?" He held his t-shirt before him to cover his frail chest.

Myka bit her lower lip. She hadn't tried to make him uncomfortable, and obviously little Pete was shier than the older one. She frowned. "Sorry, Pete."

"Yeah right!" he snapped back. His dark pupils locked with her eyes. "I have to take a shower, so can you at least not enter when I'm in? You know, let me have some privacy before you come back to haunt me all my life?" He quipped.

"I'm not haunting you," replied Myka, a bit uncomfortable about all of this. "I came to help you, Pete. I came to help you go back home."

He shook his head with a snort and slammed the door shut behind him.

Myka raised her eyes. One thing was sure, 12 or much older, when Pete was mad it was obvious right away. Carefully she stepped to the door. "Please, Pete we have to talk," she voiced at the door.

"I'm not talking to a ghost! GO AWAY!" he shouted through the door.

Her heart tightened in her chest, realizing that even inches to each other and just a door between them, Pete was stubbornly far away from her reach. He wasn't remembering who she was. She swallowed the hard knot in her throat. How could she connect with him if he had no idea of who she was? _No,_ her mind intervened. _Pete will remember, he has his vibes._ _At some point he's going to remember. I just have to try._ Making hers his own determine words, she sat at the bottom of the door, and waited. Time mattered, but as Artie had told her, everything was different when you were in Neverland. Hours outside could be days, weeks or years in this imaginary world. So if she had to be patient to get Pete's attention and be sure to bring him back then she would. Water dripping in the shower echoed from the bathroom as she crossed her legs under her.

"I will wait outside, Pete," she called. "It's really important."

_Important... _Pete raised his eyes to the door separating him from that woman and sighed. Then he looked back at the water running alone in the shower. His bluff hadn't worked. He had hoped she would leave him alone if he ignored her but she seemed to be as stubborn as he was. He frowned. He had caught a glance of himself in the mirror. He was twelve, only twelve. What could he do against a ghost that wanted to stick around? He sighed in defeat, and let his small body slumped down against the wall. The steam from the running shower quickly filtered through the curtain, making the air sticky and hot. He closed his eyes, tired. A loud headache banged behind his temples.

His hands rubbed at his face in hope to wake up from this nightmare. Then, an old memory flashed before his eyes. It was like a dream or more, a dark horror piece! Somber shadowy clouds surrounded him and he was alone and screaming for help. He swallowed as the painful memory slowly subsided. It was just a dream, it hadn't been real. He shook his head. How could he know what was real now? The shadows taunting him? The ghostly woman pretending she had come to help him? His family? His life?

He sighed. As if his life wasn't complicated enough. His parents counted on him to make them proud and since he had learned to walk he had striven for it. He earned each grade as if it was a battle won on destiny that had claimed his sister's ears and tongue. _Important..._ The woman's word echoed in his head as he let it fall on his knees folded to his chest. _What things are important in the world? School? Grades? Family? Friends?_ He opened his eyes, and a small tear fell from the corner of his eye. If he was really crazy he would lose all that. His small hand rubbed his eyes as he knew what he had to do. He had learned from his dad that if something was really important then, he couldn't dismiss it by the back of his hand. No, he obviously couldn't remain here in this steaming bathroom and hide. He couldn't or he would hide all his life. And anyhow he had to know if he was really crazy once and for all.

His jaw clenched, he took a deep breath. He groaned as he pushed on his hands to stand, his weary body stiff and refusing to move. Trying not to think too much about the crazy thing he was about to do, he pulled on the shower curtain and stopped the running water. Silence quickly filled the room. The hard reality of his actions suddenly dawned on him. He grabbed his dirty shirt and slipping into it, he opened the door.

As expected the ghost woman was still there. But one thing was weird, she wasn't standing victoriously because he had opened the door. _No._ Instead she was sitting on the carpet, as if she had really waited for him. An image flashed in his mind of the same woman. But this time, she was sitting on a bed, her legs crossed like now and her face was torn in a sad pout. His stomach churned at the pain he caught in her eyes but before he could say or do anything, the image was gone.

He frowned, not sure of what had just happened. "What's so important that you can't wait the night to haunt me like any normal _Casper?_"

Myka smiled at the small tease he had managed to send although the situation had to be really tense for a 12 year old. "As I said, Pete. I came here for you."

His brows rose. "I guess you sticking to my floor I had time to realize you didn't mean to haunt my neighbor," he said a bit sarcastic.

She sighed. "No, I mean here." She stood up and walked toward him but she had to stop the minute she saw him recoiling, fear filling his eyes. "I'm not here to hurt you, Pete?"

"So why are you here?" His hands closed into fists to his sides. Maybe he should have stayed in the bathroom. Talking with a spirit was never good, it only proved one thing: he was totally nuts! What was he going to tell to his parents? That he just happened to see a ghost and thought that it could be fun and started a conversation with it? He could already pictured his neighbors seeing him from their windows talking alone. He shook his head. In no time they would call his parents and he would find himself in a psychic ward. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, cursing his great imagination. Well maybe not in the psychic ward yet but surely they would make him see a shrink or something and bye bye his freedom.

Myka stared at the frightened kid before her. Even though Pete was doing his best to hide it, it was obvious this situation was making him more than nervous. She sighed, well if she had seen a ghost at 12, maybe she would be in this state too. _No, scratch that. _She would be totally freaked out and would have run out of the house. _So yep,_ compared to her, Pete was taking it quite nicely, which brought her another question, _why?_

"Am I your first _ghost_?" she tried, curious. She frowned, even for her the word was strange. She really didn't feel like one.

Pete sighed, resigned and sat on the bed. "No."

His answer took her aback. Pete could see ghost? But he had never told her about that! _Why?_ Had he thought she would think he was crazy? _Hmm, it was true that the first time I met him I dismissed his vibes quickly._ So maybe that's why he had never talked about his other stuff. "It happened a lot?"

"Just a couple of times," whispered Pete. He shook his head. He had to be really insane to admit that to a ghost. "Look, I'm not gonna talk about that! So what's the important thing?"

Her heart heavy, Myka realized now that Pete had a bigger burden that he had ever shared with her. Couldn't be easy to have vibes at 12 but if you were able to see ghosts too, what were the odds you thought things were okay with you? She winced. "I..." her voice trailed off as all the implications of his natural gift and the associate burden dawned on her. And to add to that, she had to be very careful too. Pete didn't remember her. She couldn't ask him to trust her or rely on their friendship. She sighed hopeless. So she would have to talk to him in another way. "Have you noticed anything strange in your life recently?"

"Like what?" he retorted with a smirk. "A ghost?"

She offered him a gentle smile and slowly sat on the bed next to him. A warm feeling invaded her heart as he didn't try to avoid her, instead his black eyes plunged into hers, searching for something. She swallowed at the deep charismatic inquiry. It had always been like that. When Pete was serious, he was always looking at her this way; searching, probing deep inside her soul. "Maybe, but I meant more like, don't you think that yesterday and today just look the same?"

He rolled his eyes and was about to retort a witty reply when a feeling caught his attention. It was true that he did have the gut wrenching feeling that today was like yesterday. He frowned, his heart starting to pound faster, or could it be tomorrow? He bit his lower lip. But he couldn't travel through time, right?

"I'm really insane," he muttered, closing his eyes. If now he could see what would happen the next morning then, there was something terribly wrong with him, really really wrong.

She tightened her lips at Pete's sad admission. "No, you're not, Pete." Carefully, her hand softly pressed on his back, her mind focusing on the reality of his presence. Leena had told her how if she focused her thoughts she would be able to interact anyway she wanted with Pete's universe. Well, as long as he would let her do it..

Slowly, her hand pressed on his shoulders and slid down. At first, he trembled when she touched him but then the slight tremors stopped with her gentle regular strokes.

"Who are you?" he asked, raising a pair of dark brown eyes, glistening from the tears he was desperately holding back. "Are you the angel of death? You came... You came to take me away before I go Joker on people around me and start to hurt them?" He looked up at her, his gaze mixed with pain and sadness. "I'm screwed..."

Her heart shattered in pieces as she caught his black pool glistening from the tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. "No Pete, I really came here to help you. Help you remember who you are."

He let out a deep breath, his hand quickly wiping away the salty tears in his eyes. "You're too late," he whispered. "Unfortunately I know who I am. Your friends the shadows told me."

"What?" she exclaimed, puzzled. Her gut twisted nervously. _Oh God!_ What had those things told him?

_**...TBC

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**A/N: **Well again a cliffie, but with this story hard not to, sorry. Hope you still liked it and I'll be glad to have your point of view on this chapter, so don't hesitate to review, I will answer.


	7. The edge

**Chapter 7:** The Edge

**A/N:** Again thanks a lot for all the great review and to my beta Kjay99, here the next chapter.

**Summary:** Set few months after Reset. Myka has left the W13. Now she receives news from Warehouse 13 as a friend is in need. Pete Myka

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, besides the characters I created for this story. Warehouse 13 belongs to the SYFY channel, and Neverland to John Barry.

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Myka cursed underneath her breath, her heart beating loudly in her chest. What was he talking about? Did he finally remember her and the team? And what did he mean by the _shadows_? Her friends? Her heart accelerated in her chest. "What do you mean, Pete? What do you know?"

He let out a deep sigh as his hands rubbed his face wearily, drying his tears in the process. She cracked a small smile, a small twinge pinching at her heart. He had always done that, and it suddenly reminded her how much she had missed him these last couple of months. But his eyes, the sadness in them was so deep compared to the man she used to know. She had only seen him like that once, when the telegraph had hit him close to home._ Oh God, Pete. _Her stomach churned in dread. What was he really thinking about?

"I'm a freak," he dropped suddenly, breaking the deafening silence. "That's what I am. I don't need a ghost to tell me that."

Her heart squeezed in her chest and Artie's words echoed in her mind. "_Whatever you're going to see or hear, remember, it will only be a part of Pete; sometimes true and sometimes deformed by Neverland, but each time remember that there's a part of truth in it and it has a hold on him through deep fear. Myka," he had continued. "When he'll do that, don't be afraid of it, but mindful of his behavior and his words. Everything then could become a clue to his salvation. Everything! So in order to save him, you'll have to bring out the good in him. What had made him, Pete! I mean, who he is, and not what Neverland tries to make him believe he's."_ She tightened her lips realizing now what he had meant then. This was no easy job at all.

"You're not a freak, Pete. You're... _special._"

He snorted at her hesitation. "That's a cool word for freak!"

"No, it's not." Her hand gently nibbled his neck. "You have gifts, Pete. And you're going to help a lot of people with it. Believe me."

He frowned, looking at her puzzled. A reassuring warmth was emanating from her, and he couldn't explain why. He sighed inwardly, despite her ghostly appearance, he had to admit he was beginning to like her. But truth was, he didn't know her. _Hell no!_ She was a ghost. His brows furrowed. _Or maybe not. _After all she was able to touch him which was odd. _Ghost can't do that?_

Now that she had his full attention she continued. "You have to trust me, Pete. You have to let things happen, to let the past become you once again, and move on as you did before."

"Trust you? Let the past..." His brows furrowed. "what the heck is that? I don't understand..."

She smiled. "Let me help." Her gaze lingered in his dark pools looking at her with hope. In fact, he was the one that had helped her move on after Sam's death, and she wanted to give it back. "Try to focus on tomorrow morning alright?"

He offered her a weak smile. "That's not difficult." And that was true. Facing that ghost and all these new difficulties, all he wanted was to be tomorrow, and forget about this freaking nightmare.

"Good."

Pete closed his eyes, his mind focused on his father on the threshold of the door, his big smile warming the room. He lingered on the reassuring feeling conveyed by his dad's presence; the scent of the aftershave, the warmth of his callous hand patting the top of his head and messing with his hair every time he was leaving home. Pete released slowly the frustration tensing his shoulders, the warm presence of his dad calming his beating heart.

A voice spoke, calling his name, and before he realized it he wasn't in the room anymore.

"What the... ?" He opened his eyes at the voice sounding really close to him. When he looked up his dad was standing in front of him, a big warm smile plastered on his face.

"Son, you take care of the girls for me, alright?"

Pete nodded, affecting a grin despite the mad twitching in his gut. _What's happening?_ _Why am I here? _He frowned as a feeling of gloom silently wrapped its cold wings around him around, his dad shaking his dead.

"See you tonight, Buddy."

The words rang in his mind like a sharp blade, and the clear sensation that he was seeing his dad for the last time printed in his mind._ Noooo,_ his mind screamed in horror. He shouldn't be here. Not today, never. _That can't be real!_ Frozen, he watched as his dad waved to him. He felt his mother's hands patting his shoulders and gently pulling him to her.

_Tell him,_ his mind screamed in dread. _But he's gonna think I'm scared for him or that I'm crazy_. Small tears nestled in the corner of his eyes as Pete fought with his dilemma. He swallowed hard, the minute his mother squeezed gently his shoulder and spoke.

"C'mon Pete, you'll see your dad tonight." she offered him a comforting smile that didn't do anythinhg for him.

His heart squeezed as the car disappeared in the street. What if it wasn't? What if his fears were real? He took a deep breath, his heart pounding harder in his ears. He felt dizzy and nauseous. _Why am I back in this nightmare? Why?_ Pain soared from his twitching gut. Tears slowly wet his eyes. Somehow he knew his mother was wrong.

"C'mon, Pete," she called from the house as he remained still on the threshold.

Pete looked down, his wet eyes unable to stare back. He swallowed. Things were swirling in confusion in his mind. Finally, he rushed inside, passed his mother and climbed to his room wanting more than anything to shut the world out and disappear in a deep, black hole.

The door slammed shut behind him as he jumped on his bed.

Myka appeared near the door. Her face went white when she saw her friend curled up on the bed, his face sank into a pillow. "Pete?" Silently, she approached the trembling form. Her heart squeezed in her ches at his sobs muffled by the sheets. "Pete?"

Suddenly, he turned to her. His eyes were red, and flashing hot anger. "It worked!" He exclaimed brutally. "You..." he continued on an accusing tone. "You trapped me! Why do you want me to think about this day? I don't want to be this day! Something is wrong! Why I didn't tell him?" he yelled, small tears welling down his cheeks. He stared at her hoping she was going to deny everything, that his gut feeling was wrong. That his dad would be back tonight as promised. He was crazy. He had to be, otherwise it meant that his dad was going to... He clenched his teeth._ Hell._ He wasn't ready to lose his dad, never! _Never!_

Myka bit her lower lip and sat on the bed near him. Her heart was heavy. She hadn't wanted Pete to suffer again, but remembering who he was meant also remembering everything that was him, including his painful past.

"I'm sorry, Pete." She sighed, her hand slowly caressed his burning cheek. He glared at her as her thumb grazed his skin.

"You trapped me," he snapped. His hand caught her wrist, pulling her fingers away from his face. Anger simmered in the depth of his eyes as his hand squeezed her wrist. "Why?... Why did you do it? What did I do to you to deserve this?"

Myka swallowed the hard knot formed in her throat the moment his angry eyes had struck her, and took a deep breath. His grip tightened around her wrist. Although a kid, Pete's strength was strong enough to lock her hand away from his face. But it wasn't painful, as always her friend was unable to hurt her. She locked her eyes with his and focused on her main goal; getting him out of here. "I'm sorry if you're hurt but it's important that you remember today, Pete. It's a part of yourself and if you deny it then you deny who you are and your future as well."

"Screw what I am!" he jumped from the bed, his hand wiping the tears away. "I don't care! I don't want to be what you say I'm supposed to be?" what he was had only brought him more troubles. Why would he want to be this crazy? He glared at her angrily. "You trapped me! I hate you!" This was too painful. He had bought her reasons, and now he could feel that he had missed the last opportunity to save his dad. He cursed. No, truth was he should have talked to him, he should have done something! Anything! _Dammit!_

His harsh words stabbed her heart painfully, but she understood his pain. She knew her friend wouldn't hurt her consciously. Pete was too nice to do that. "I'm sorry but I can't change your past Pete. You can't deny who you are, even the pain." She sighed and stood up next to him, looking down. "All the things you did, good or bad, they are what make you special. You know that, right?"

He snorted. "I haven't done anything..." his voice trailed off as his eyes lingered sadly on the carpet. _No, I haven't done a damn thing!_

She smiled gently, trying to reassure him. "You have to believe me, Pete. You did a lot of things... a lot of _good things_," she repeated softly.

He looked at her, a strange feeling nestled in the pit of his stomach. It was weird how sometimes he had the feeling of knowing that woman since forever. Pushing away his irrational fear about his father, he gazed at her. His sight lingered on the soft curves of her ivory face. Her skin seemed soft as silk and he had to stop looking at her when a strange tingling invaded his body. _Wow! What's that?_ his mind shot in surprise.

He stared at her in silence, wondering who she was really. She hadn't told him her name or why she was there other than to help him. He sighed, though having that sickening feeling your dad was going to die wasn't something you could call _helpful_. Suddenly he felt the need of being very far from everything, including her.

He headed for the door and turned to her with a pout. "I need some fresh air." And without another word, he was gone.

Myka frowned, left alone in the bedroom. This day wasn't going to be easy for Pete. She had no idea what was going to happen now. Pete hadn't shared the details about his father. But somewhere between the end of the day and tomorrow, he would have lost him. She closed her eyes, hoping he would remember who he was before he had to relive this painful moment. Losing someone was the most soul tearing pain you could think of, and she wished her friend hadn't to remember it.

_**xxx**_

Myka was just standing in the doorway of his room, when Pete ran into the bathroom and let out his pain in a form of guttural wrenching sound. She closed her eyes. She had hoped this pain would be spared to him. But no. Neverland had decided he needed to suffer. She heard the rattling sound of his last meal being delivered in the toilet and hoped with all her heart, that she was right and this memory would help him to remember who he was.

A few minutes ago, she had been downstairs with him, listening quietly at the sad melody coming from the piano. She had to admit, even if it was a sad tune, she had become his number one fan. He was really an amazing musician. But then the sad song had been broken by the door bell ringing. It was almost 10pm. His mother hadn't come back home yet, having called to say she would be late as more work had come up at the hospital. And once again Pete had spent the whole day by himself. Myka stared at the closed bathroom door, her own stomach twitching at his painful cries. His sister too was out with some of her friends. So once again, Pete had been left alone.

Myka sighed. Really, she had never thought he had lived so lonely as a kid, not with the silly grin he was plastering every time he looked at her. But then, as he had reached for the door and opened it, three firefighters in dirty yellow gears had stood up on the threshold.

"Is your mother home, Pete?" had spoken a tall dark haired man.

Standing next to Pete, Myka had seen the dark shadow returning quickly in his eyes. Pete had stared at them, unable to speak or move. She had admired his courage to stand straight, although she knew from the way he spoke that he already knew why they were here.

"No, she's at work." He had locked his eyes with the firefighter. "Why are you here? Is my dad coming home?"

The man crouched to stand at Pete's eye level. Gently he put a hand on his shoulder, and sighed deeply. "Can you call your mother for us, Pete?"

Her eyes wet, Myka had seen her friend biting his lower lip with pain and distress, his small fists closing together so much that his knuckles went white.

"He's not coming back, is he?" His voice had echoed painfully in the silent home.

The firefighter had taken a deep breath and locked a sad gaze with Pete. "I'm sorry buddy, but I'm afraid not."

Pete had remained still, standing as if frozen by some kind of spell, his eyes unable to focus on anything. "My mother is at the hospital," he had blurted out, his voice firm as if he wanted to appear strong before these three men. "You... I'll call her to tell her you're looking for her."

The firefighter had shaken his head. "No need, buddy. We're heading there right now. You wanna come with us?"

Pete had shaken his head. "No, no, my sister will be home soon... I ... I have to be there to tell her..." He had taken a weary breath as if the world was crushing him. "I will wait for her." His words were slow and pronounced with an agonizing self control.

The firefighter stood up, his lips tight. His eyes spoke for himself, and Myka knew the man wanted to comfort Pete. But what could he say? Suddenly his voice had broken the heavy silence. "Your dad is a hero, son. He saved three kids tonight."

Pete had looked at the man, a small glimmer of pride sparkled in the depth of his eyes torn with pain. Quickly, his glistening eyes locked with Myka's as if he was checking he had been left alone again. Both watched as the firefighters left. Pete closed the door, his head sagging slowly. He didn't speak, but the next minute he was rushing upstairs and slammed the bedroom door behind him.

It had been awful for Myka to watch the worst moment in Pete's life becoming his harsh reality once again. But it was the truth, it was his past and if she wanted to get him back home then he had to see the plain truth as hard and hurting it was. She trusted him to be strong enough to survive to that again and come back with her in the reality. He had to do it. It was Pete. In two years she had never seen him back down from a fight, so he had to wake up.

As the sound of Pete throwing up subsided, Myka dared to step inside the bathroom. The scene before her broke her heart. Little Pete as she was starting to call him was cuddled against the wall, his knees brought to his shivering chest, his small arms wrapped around his legs. He looked awful. Slowly, he raised a feverish reddened glare to her, proof he had cried his heart out. His dark brown hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead when he finally managed to control his trembling lips.

"Happy now!" he spat, his face flushed and sweating.

Her lips tight she sat before him, crossing her legs beneath her. "I'm not Pete. I'm not."

"My..." His lips trembled uncontrollably and she could see his gaze filled with a load of burning tears. "My dad is dead! And that's my fault!" he shouted before his head sagged between his knees.

Violent sobs coursedthrough his body. Myka couldn't bear to see her friend in pain anymore. Slowly, she shifted to get closer to him, her back resting against the wall. She pulled his frail body into her arms. He didn't resist and quickly let go his pain when she wrapped her arms around him, keeping him closer of her heart. He was burning and shaking slightly, his heartbreaking sobs filling the room with each new tear. Gently, her hand stroked his back, and his face deepened in the crook of her shoulder as if it could make everything disappeared. After a while, she slowly rocked him back and forth, letting him expressed his pain without restrictions.

"He's not coming back," his muffled voice echoed against her chest, his small fingers squeezing her shirt.

She swallowed hard, her hand gently brushing his hair. "I'm sorry, Pete. I'm so sorry."

"He never came back," echoed another voice and this time as she raised her eyes, Pete's faint image appeared before her.

This time he was as she had always known him, in his adult form though he didn't seem real almost like a ghost. He stared at her, his brown eyes filled with so much pain. "He never came back," he repeated sadly.

"I'm sorry, Pete but you have to..." Myka was happy to see him, it has to be a good news. But before she could talk to him, and warned him about the shadows and that he had been trapped by an artifact, unfortunately his image was gone. "No, Pete? Pete?" Oh no! She looked around, hoping maybe he was just hiding from her sight. But nothing, he had vanished again.

Buzzing echoed around her as suddenly everything faded into a deep maelstrom of color and darkness. After a minute, she was dizzy and wondered if she had succeeded or if it was another trap set by Neverland. Was it done? Was Pete coming back with her this time? But a bright shining sun too different from Pete's room welcomed her. Looking down she quickly noticed the green grass under her feet and sighed.

_Not again,_ she couldn't be in front of Pete's house for another round again! She frowned. Somewhere someone yelled and she raised her head in surprise.

"Duck!" the voice strongly repeated.

But the time the word registered in her mind, a small object had hit her head. _Dammit!_ Knocked out, her legs crumbled beneath her and she fell into the grass. Wherever she was, it was anywhere but Pete's BnB's room.

_**...TBC

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**A/N: **Well wish you all a great weekend guys!


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